Not Now, Nor Never
by Ely-Baby
Summary: Love between cousins isn't globally accepted, some people think it's immoral and in some places it's considered illegal. And what when this love brings to something else? A baby is growing in a girl's belly and the emotional consequences will be devastating. R
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Notes: I don't know what got into me. Seriously. I'm currently rewriting "Her Past, Her Present and Her Future", I'm writing my first NC-17 fanfiction and I have to go on with my novel-length story "But Thy Eternal Summer Shall Not Fade", and I wrote this one! I can't believe myself. The thing is, I was obsessing over the next-generation and looking desperately for some stories on the net, but I was looking for some Rose/JamesII stories and couldn't find any! ANY! How is that possible? I mean, people are writing about Teddy/Hermione or even James/Harry, come on.. So I found myself at writing this one.. Thise story is UN-BETAED (I'm not a native-English speaker), and I wrote it in half an hour. And now I NEED YOU TO **_FLAME THIS_**, please, FLAME THIS THING, because I don't have the time to write another story and I want to see some terrible comments that will convince me in abadoning this project.. PLEASE... I'm begging you.. Flame this.. please... please... The title doesn't mean anything, I was angry and I swore that I wouldn't write this 'not now, nor never', but it didn't work... FLAME, please!

* * *

**Not Now, Nor Never**

Rose Weasley looked at the little, flying figures up in the air; they seemed so graceful and small from down there that she could barely tell her cousin from the other players. But James Potter Jr. was the one who zoomed in front of the three big circles at the far end of the pitch, and that was trying not to let the Quaffle in. He shouted orders and screamed against his own teammates, even if it was just a training, he was as aggressive as he used to be during a match.

Rose leaned her head against the wooden door of the Gryffindor changing room and sighed deeply, it was freezing cold in the Quidditch pitch and she was grateful that Quidditch didn't mean anything in particular in her life, so that she didn't sit out there cheering for her fellow housemates while they were having a training like most of her friends were doing.

"Hey Weasley, what are you doing here?"

Rose raised her eyes on the boy that was walking towards her, a tall sixth year with golden hair and a tanned complexion. He was wearing the Gryffindor Quidditch uniform and had his broom over his shoulder, he smirked to Rose when he saw her there all alone.

"Come to see me?" he asked, stepping towards her.

Ron snorted. "You wish, Wood," she replied coldly.

The boy laughed, he put down his broom and made his face come closer to hers. "Actually, yes, I do," he whispered quietly to her.

"Wood," called a sharp voice from the boy's back, "get away from her."

James Potter Jr. glared at Wood from the middle of the Quidditch pitch, he was walking with a quick pace towards them, his broomstick in his hand. Around him the other players were landing like falling stars, and soon most of the Gryffindors entered the changing room, someone greeting Rose or nodding toward her.

Wood raised his hands over his head. "We were just talking, James," he said, grinning, "I don't want to touch your little cousin, here."

James walked up to where he was, towering over him of some inches. "I'm sure you didn't want to," he said, his hands on his hips, "you better go and change now."

"Yes, captain," he answered, faking a military greeting, he turned towards Rose and blew her a kiss, she answered by sticking out her tongue and he burst into laughter.

James looked at her and curved his lips in a weak smile. "I better go and change too," he said, walking past her.

"James," she called him as he opened the door that brought to the changing room, "I need to talk to you." Her voice was just a bit more than a whisper and her hands were trembling in her lap.

James turned towards her and smiled. "Sure," he replied, "can you wait while--"

She shook her head. "It's _very_ important," she interrupted him, her voice just a murmur.

James cast a glance at the changing room and then closed the door at his back, he leaned his broom against the wall and nodded. "Let's go this way," he gestured to his cousin, leading her through a door that brought them out of the Quidditch pitch and towards the Lake.

They walked slowly, standing side by side, the cold air hitting their faces mercilessly, Rose shivered even if she was well wrapped in a warm coat, while James was still warmed up by the Quidditch training and didn't feel the cold as he should have. They reached the Lake and stopped on a little shore, where there was no other sound than the hooting of some wild owls.

James turned towards her and before Rose could even have time to stop her cousin, James cupped her cheeks and kissed her, his fingers slowly enlacing in her hair while one of his hands went down to explore her well covered back and push her to him. He passed his tongue over her lips, but when she didn't respond the kiss he slowly moved back, letting her go and looking into her eyes.

He frowned slightly. "What's wrong?"

Rose looked away. "I need to talk to you," she repeated.

"Talk then," he said urgently. He lowered his head and brought his lips to her neck. "Because I want some action," he breathed against her sensitive skin.

Rose pushed him away and looked at him, her face white and scared, her eyes shining with restrained tears. "James, I--"

James frowned. "Wait." His finger flew to her lips. "If you're saying that you want to leave me, think again."

Rose grabbed her cousin's wrist and kept it in place as she kissed his cold digit. "I don't want to leave you," she whispered.

"Then what is it?"

Her eyes filled with fear. "I'm pregnant," she murmured so quietly that he almost didn't hear it.

James' lips curled in a soft smile, while a weak chuckle escaped his lips. "You're joking," he said hopefully.

Rose shook her head, she brought her cousin's hand to her belly and gulped as his hand tried to feel her through all the layers that she needed to protect herself from the cold.

"I can't feel anything," he said as icily as the wind that blew around them.

"It's because it's only been two months," she replied anxiously.

"And is it mine?" he asked, his hand moving away from her flat stomach.

Rose backed a little her eyes wide with pain and shock. "James, who do you think I am?" she asked hurt.

James darkened. "Sorry," he replied grumpily, "I'm just…" His words trailed away as he looked towards the Lake, his brown eyes filled with anger and fear, his fists closed so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He felt the urge to seize something and throw it. "You have to get rid of it," he said, his voice hard like the rocks their feet were standing on.

Rose's lips parted slightly in surprise. "What?" she mouthed.

"You don't want to keep it, do you?" he asked coldly, stubbornly looking away.

Rose gulped. "I-I don't want to kill it," she said quickly.

"Rose," he said, looking into her eyes, "you can't keep it."

"Why not?" she asked, suddenly darkening and crossing her arms, she felt rebellious and hurt by his reaction, that, even if she hadn't expected it to be wonderful, she hadn't imagined it to be so awful.

James rolled his eyes. "We're first cousins, Rose," he blurted, "we shouldn't be together in the first place." He kicked one of the pebbles on the shore and sent it into the water. "Why do you think we've not said anything about us? It's something that not everybody would accept, your father would get a heart attack for example."

She tossed some curls behind her ear and put on her Know-It-All expression. "First cousins can marry in some states, it's not like siblings," she snapped.

"But there are high possibilities for the baby to have health problems," he snapped back, his dark eyes flashing with rage.

She bit her bottom lip. "I don't care," she replied curtly. "There are surely spells that can be performed to prevent the baby from being--"

James snorted, he threw his arms up in the air and rolled his eyes. "You think you can always control anything, don't you?" he asked her. "Well, guess what? You can't control something like this." He grabbed her upper arms almost painfully and shook her. "You have to terminate this pregnancy."

"James, you're hurting me," she complained, pushing on his chest with her fists.

"Say that you'll bring it to an end," he went on, ignoring Rose's protests and shaking her with even more force. "Say it."

"James, no!" she screamed.

"Say it!" His head went close to hers while he screamed and she backed a little, placing a foot on a slippery rock she fell back and James fell on top of her. They lay still between frozen grass and humid rocks, James was shaking furiously, his fingers were still grasping her arms, his face was breathing over her. Rose was moaning painfully as she tried to move from the uncomfortable position she found herself in, her back in terrible pain.

James pushed a knee on the rocks and stood on his fours, he looked down at Rose and sat back on his heels, shaking his head slowly and covering his face with his hands. "It's all my fault," he murmured, while Rose tried to sit up, breathless from the pain.

"James," she murmured, stretching a hand towards him once she was sitting as well.

"We weren't supposed to be together," he said harshly. He raised his head and looked at Rose, pushing away her hand. "You're beautiful," he continued bitterly, "and it drove me mad the fact that we were doing something forbidden." He glanced at his cousin, she was sitting opposite to him, her bushy, red hair a messy entangle of knots and dirt and her face flushed. "We had to pay more attention."

"James," she repeated slowly.

"I just wanted to be with you," he carried on, "you make me want you with all my body and mind, and being with you it's so thrilling because it's something prohibited." He grabbed a rock and threw it in the dark water of the Lake.

"What?" she asked, her hands to her mouth, "what are you talking about?"

James looked at her. "Are you surprised?" he questioned icily. "It's surely what you feel too."

She shook her head and released her mouth, her chocolaty eyes wide with horror. "No," she muttered, then she threw herself at her cousin and screamed, "no! I've been with you because I loved you. I loved you!" She grabbed his Quidditch uniform and pulled at it forcefully, her face screwed with pain. "I loved you!"

James fell backwards, with his cousin over him, he stood still looking at her while she grabbed his uniform, some of his buttons falling on the ground. He didn't have the forces to fight her and he wasn't even sure that he wanted it. With a few words he had destroyed her world, and now, with even less sounds, she had destroyed his.

James grabbed Rose's wrists and blocked her hands on his chest, right at the moment in which she was starting to bang on his ribs, she tried to shake him off, but he kept her forcefully in his hands. "Take back what you said," he whispered urgently.

Rose let out a desperate cry and as she moved her head back to pull her hair out of her eyes, James saw that hot tears were streaming down her cheeks. She tried to move away again, but James kept her in place.

"Take it back," he said more forcefully, "take what you said back."

Rose shook her head, trying hard to escape her cousin's hands.

"Take that--"

"I can't!" she screamed. She pulled her hands away from his forcefully, and fell back on the hard rocks, her chest raising and lowering quickly under her coat, her eyes wide with anger and her skin red for the cold.

"Rose, you don't mean it," James said weakly, pushing himself up in a sitting position.

Rose wiped her tears away with an angry gesture, then she pushed her hands on the frozen ground and stood up, smoothing the skirt that had rolled up a little, and the broken thighs.

James stood up as well, he looked down at her and took a step in her direction. "Rose, you can't--"

"Don't talk to me," she replied icily, the wind slapping her curly hair in her face, "never again."

James stretched a hand towards her, but she turned and walked stiffly away, her cold hands stuffed in her pockets, her Gryffindor scarf swinging in the wind.

"Wait!" She heard James steps slipping and stomping on the stones behind her, and before she could even turn, her cousin had grabbed her arm again and faced her once again.

"Rose," he said, his usually steady and self-confident voice completely transformed in a shaky whisper, "you can't keep it."

Rose jerked away from him. "Don't worry, _cousin_," she said, her voice frozen, "I'm not going to tell anybody that it's yours."

James' eyes widened a little. "Rose, listen--"

"No, James," she snapped, "you listen! I've fooled myself, I thought that you loved me the way I loved you, well I was wrong." She let out a snort. "And now let's play by your rules, I hate you, are you happy now?"

James half-shook his head, his eyebrows joining on his forehead. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound escaped his lips; he brought his hands back on her upper arms and this time he pulled her towards him with force, crashing her head against his chest in a ribs-crashing hug.

He expected her to try to free herself or to curse him, but instead James felt Rose melting into tears against his lurid uniform, her little body trembling with sobs and sniffles while her hands reached for his back and she hugged him back. James let her upper arms go and brought his own fingers in her hair, caressing her head through her thick curls, he leaned his head against his forehead and kissed her there. "I'm not happy if you hate me," he whispered in a low voice that he hoped it would help soothing her, "you break my heart."

Rose moved slightly away. "It was just a game for you," she murmured, "you didn't give a damn about me."

James took a deep breath. Was she saying the truth? He didn't know, he had surely said that, but he was shocked, and upset people don't say what they think, do they? Maybe he just have to get a grip on his feelings and understand what he felt for her. "You were beautiful," he started, "and I had a crush on you. I've been having a crush on you for years, since even before we went to Hogwarts."

Rose tried to move away, she didn't want to hear those words as much as she wanted to hear what he had told her so far, but James hold her tightly against himself.

"Wait," he murmured, "let me talk." He waited until she relaxed a bit more in his arms and then kept on talking. "I wanted you, but I knew that I couldn't have you, because you were my cousin. You were Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron's daughter, you were Mum and Dad's niece, you were my first cousin." He sighed. "And then that summer at the Burrow, I couldn't resist, you were… you were…"

"James…"

"No, let me finish," he insisted, "I knew that it was wrong, but I couldn't stay away from you, I thought I was going to die if I didn't touch you, and I dreamt of you, gosh, I dreamt of you every night and even every day. I just wanted to be with you, because it was exciting and thrilling and dangerous, and if they discovered us I knew that we would have been in trouble, and you were anything I needed and I couldn't have been away from you even for a few hours without having my heart aching for you." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, he had talked so quickly that for a moment he feared that Rose hadn't understood a word of his rants.

Rose shook her head softly. "You," she murmured, "you just wanted to be with me."

"I needed to be with you."

"Because it was dangerous," she said, "and it sent shivers down your spine, didn't it?"

"Because you are beautiful," he breathed against her forehead, "and I couldn't believe that you chose me among all the boys that were trying to have a go with you."

"I loved you," she replied, her fingers gripping his arms almost painfully. "I chose you because I loved you."

James hugged her even more tightly. "Rose…"

"I'm going to keep the baby," she hissed, "and you will not stop me." She easily freed herself from her flabbergasted cousin and ran up towards the castle. If he wanted the war, war was what he would have got.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Why is this chapter called 'I Swear'? Because I swear that this is the last one, okay? No other chapters are coming. Don't you dare sending me nice reviews, it won't help! And don't put this story in your faves or alerts, I don't want to! I want you to tell me that it's horrible, so that I can forget it and concentrate on my other stories! Flame me, say terrible things to me, please.. Come on! Where do you find someone else that begs for flames? I need flames, because lately this stupid plot is the only thing that I can think of!!!!! I want to stop! Please.. Please.. flame me.. really.. tell me that I have to stop writing this! I dream about this plot, I can't think about anything else but this and I can't write anything else.. please.. someone stop me.. please... --- PLUS THIS CHAPTER IS REALLY TERRIBLE..

* * *

**I Swear**

Rose pushed the door of her kitchen open; her father was sitting at the table, the Daily Prophet in his hands and one of those Muggle drinks that her mother prepared so well and that her father kept on forgetting how to call placed on the table. Rose took a deep breath and stepped inside, her hands on her voluminous belly, massaging her child through her skin while she walked towards the man that she was fearing most in the whole world, she was sure that if she could have found herself face to face with Voldemort at that moment, she wouldn't have been so scared at all.

"Dad," she said, her voice rough and almost unrecognizable even to herself.

"Hmm?" muttered Ron, sipping from his cup of coffee, his eyes fixed on the newspaper in front of him.

"I have to tell you something," she replied firmly.

"Yes, Rose," he said, his eyes not moving from the Prophet.

"Dad!"

"Yes, Rose," Ron replied, his eyes fixed on the Prophet.

"Will you look at me?" she asked, stomping her feet on the floor. "I need to talk to you!" She walked to the table and pulled at her father's sleeve, like she used to do when she was younger and wanted something that he didn't want to give her.

Ron spilled some of his coffee on the table and raised his eyes on his daughter. "Rose," he said firmly, "you aren't a baby anymore. For Merlin's beard, grow up!"

"Dad, look," she said, pointing at her belly, "I'm pregnant."

Ron lowered his eyes on her stomach. "No, you're not," he said calmly, going back to his Prophet.

"Of course, I am," she snapped, "look at my belly."

Ron gave her another look, but his vague expression didn't change. "No, you're not, Rose Weasley, look at you."

Rose lowered her eyes on her belly with a challengingly glare at her father, but when she looked down there, her face fell and she found herself staring at her flat stomach, she made her hands run down her abdomen, but she couldn't feel anything extraneous. "Dad, I swear…" she muttered, "I'm pregnant…" She felt something thick and warm running down her legs and when she looked down, she saw that she was dressed with a white nightgown and soaked in blood from her waist to her knees. She touched herself and brought up digits covered in blood, her eyes widening and her breath increasing.

"Maybe you were pregnant, and gave birth to the baby without noticing," said Ron, his eyes back on the Prophet while he sipped from another mug of coffee.

"I would have noticed, if I.. I would have—what's this?" She held her breath and stood still, trying to listen to the faint sound that reached her ears. "Dad, can you hear it?" she asked in a bare whisper.

"Hmm?" muttered Ron, ignoring her once again.

Rose turned on her heels and walked through the door of her kitchen, but instead of finding herself in her living-room, she stepped in her bedroom. Her bed and walls were exactly like she remembered, but now there was a cradle next to her bed and a boy was bending over it. The boy was singing lullabies and from the cradle came gurgles and cries, Rose stopped in her track, her eyes filled with unjustified fear.

"Rose," said the boy, raising his head, a smile over his face.

"James," she mouthed, but her voice didn't escape her lips.

"Come here, come here, come here," he hurried her, gesturing for her to reach him on the bed.

Rose frowned slightly, but she walked towards him, her steps slow and uncertain. James' hands circled her waist as he pulled her on his lap, he grabbed her chin and made her look into the cradle. "Looks who's here," he said to the baby in the cradle, "mum's here."

Rose's breath quickened as she bent over the cradle and peeked into it, it was dark in there and she couldn't see anything. "James," she tried to say, her voice still silent.

"Take it, Rose, come on," he encouraged her, "take it in your arms."

Rose's eyebrows linked on her forehead as she bent over the cradle and immersed her hands in the dark of the little bed. "James," she whispered, her voice finally reaching her ear, "James, it's all slimy and cold here." She immersed her arms to her elbows and seized something, but when she tried to pull it out, she found that she couldn't move. "James," she tried to scream, but all she did was to whisper his name, "I can't move, James." She didn't turn, but she could feel that James wasn't behind her anymore.

Rose pulled more forcefully, squeezing her bottom lip between her teeth, something cold wrapped around her arms as she did so. She opened her mouth to scream, but once again she was unable to speak while the little thing exited the cradle. Her arms pulled the thing out of the cradle and Rose understood that she was holding a little pink baby in front of her eyes. Her jaw dropped in fear: the baby had an eye in the middle of his forehead, his hands had three fingers each and his head was monstrously big for his little body.

Rose frozen with the baby in her hands, she wanted to let him fall but at the same time she knew that she couldn't have done that. The baby stretched his monstrous hands towards her and spoke. "Mum," he said with a cavernous voice.

Rose felt a cold fear spread from her insides to every part of her body, her heart seemed to be torn in pieces as she looked at the thing that was trying to reach her.

"Rose," called a firm voice from her back. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

Rose tried to turn, but she was stuck to the floor, her knees heavy and her body out of control.

"Rose!" the voice called her again.

Rose raised her eyes in front of her and saw her Uncle Harry staring at her, his face cold and distant as he has never been, his emerald eyes looking intently at her.

"Uncle Harry," she whispered, "the baby, I didn't mean to--"

"The baby isn't the problem," replied Harry, and suddenly Rose found herself sitting on a huge double bed in his Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's house, the baby in her hands gone, her stomach a wide balloon once again. Harry took some steps towards her and kneeled next to her. "The problem is what you and James did," he said harshly.

Rose's eyes filled with tears, never in her whole life she had seen her Uncle Harry so angry, and naturally seeing him angry with her upset her even more than it would have been if he was angry with one of his children. "I-I didn't mean to," she replied, her voice trembling while her cheeks streamed with tears.

"It's not important," he replied icily, "you've already done it. You can't come back, and James had already paid for that."

"What happened?" she asked, fear and horror invaded her heart as she understood, without knowing how, that her cousin was dead. "Uncle…"

"Your dad killed him," he replied coldly.

Rose brought her hands to her mouth. "Dad, no, he wouldn't…"

"He did it, Rose," said Harry coldly. He stood up and stepped back, pulling out his wand, he pointed it towards her. "And now I'll avenge my son."

"No! Uncle please, no," she tried to scream, her arms going instinctively to her face, "please, Uncle Harry, no! I swear I didn't want to…"

"Rose!" someone screamed, shaking her shoulders. "Rose, wake up!"

The red haired girl opened her eyes wide, grabbing the closest thing to her, the little and slim hand that was shaking her shoulder. She looked into the green eyes of a girl and tried to stand up, her shirt and skirt stuck to her sweaty body like a second skin as she did so. She took a sharp breath as she tried to understand where she was, then her eyes travelled around the room and she saw other five beds placed around a stove, high windows that overlooked the Hogwarts grounds and a crimson curtain around her bed.

She sunk her head into the pillow and breathed deeply, trying to make her heart beat less furiously. _A dream, it was just a dream…_

She brought a hand to her forehead and noticed that she was soaking with sweat, then she finally looked back at the person that had saved her from the horrible nightmare.

"Lily," she said hoarsely, her hands going quickly to the other girl's lap as she searched for support in her cousin's hot palms.

"That was a powerful nightmare, I would say," the fourth year said, squeezing her cousin's hand in hers, "I've never heard anybody screaming like that."

Rose closed her eyes. "I was screaming?" she asked weakly. "What did I say?" She couldn't remember everything of her dream, but she hoped that she hadn't screamed James name at some point.

"It was kind of confused," Lily replied, trying to remember, "you were screaming about a baby, and then you said that you didn't want to do something and then you were screaming again about the baby." Lily looked at her with a soft smile. "What did you have for lunch?" she asked amused.

Rose shook her head softly, as if to ask her cousin not to joke about that, then she opened her eyes again and looked at Lily as if it was the first time that she saw her. "What are you doing here?" she asked, shivering in the mild air of the dorm.

"Mary Finnegan," she said, nodding towards one of the empty beds around them, "she said that you were here crying while we were at dinner. And so I came to see you." She looked anxiously at her and added, "Is everything all right?"

Rose shut her eyes, but didn't answer, her body shaken by little shivers.

Lily squeezed her cousin's hands in hers. "Rose," she called her vehemently. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Rose replied, she moved away her hand from her cousin and turned on the other side. "I'm tired, I want to sleep."

Lily stood from the bed and circled it, standing right in front of Rose's face, her hands on her hips. "You slept all the afternoon," she replied, "what's wrong with you?"

"I'm ill," she protested weakly.

"Then, you'll have to go to the Hospital Wing," said Lily practically.

"I don't feel like moving," replied Rose quickly.

"I'll help you get there," Lily said promptly, offering her a hand.

"No, Lily!" snapped Rose, smacking her hand away, she looked at her taken aback cousin and darkened. "I don't want to get out of here, okay?" she added, her voice a bit gentler.

Lily raised her chin and crossed her arms. "Okay," she said coldly, "sorry if I was worrying for you." She turned on her heels and walked away, towards the door of the sixth year girls' dorm.

She banged the door at her back when she was finally out, rolling her eyes, she closed her fists and stuffed her little hands in her pockets, walking down to the common room to collect her books and finally go to bed after a hard school day. The common room was stuffed with people, especially fifth and seventh years , who were already studying for their June exams. Lily walked through them and reached the small table near the fireplace, where her books left neglected since before dinner.

"How's Rose?" asked Hugo, raising his head from the book in his lap when his cousin appeared next to him.

Lily shrugged slightly, her hands moving quickly on the table as she collected her things. "She says she's ill," she informed him coldly.

"Ill?" asked Hugo, looking at Lily with wide eyes. "What does she have?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask her?"

"She wouldn't say," she replied curtly.

"And you didn't insist?"

Lily snorted. "Why don't you go and ask her?" she snapped, glaring at him.

"Because I can't get into the girls' dorm," he snapped back.

Lily opened her mouth to reply something nasty, but their attention was dragged to the portrait hole that had swung open and from where a dirty and soaked James had entered. Lily frowned slightly as she looked at her brother, he was wearing the Gryffindor Quidditch uniform, covered in dirt and soaked with water, and some of the buttons were missing from his chest while his hair was messier than usual.

Hugo stood up and looked at him as well while in the common room fell a deadly silence. The boy looked around himself, barking against some first and fifth years and then kept on walking towards the dorms.

Hugo and Lily exchanged looks and ran to the door that brought to the boys' dorm, standing in front of the tall boy as he reached the stairs. The boy looked down at them and frowned. "Move away, midgets," he said coldly.

"Where have you been?" asked Lily, glancing at his dirty face, his wet hair falling in his eyes.

"None of your business," he replied stiffly, trying to push her away.

"You weren't at dinner," pointed out Hugo, his eyes looking intently at his cousin's face.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't hungry," he snapped, trying to push them away another time. "Move away, I said," he half-cried.

"Don't you feel well you too?" asked Hugo, frowning like a Healer with a patient.

Lily stretched a hand towards him and placed her small palm on his cold forehead. "He's frozen," she said, while James moved away from her, "she was quite hot."

James snorted. "I'm fine," he snapped, then he stopped and looked in his sister's eyes. "Why? Who isn't feeling well?"

"Rose," she answered quietly.

James felt a sudden headache behind his eyes. "What?" he groaned. "What does she have?"

"We don't know," said Hugo quickly. "She didn't ask," he added, nodding towards his cousin and earning a glare from her.

"As I've already said, she wouldn't say!" she snapped to her cousin rather than to her brother.

"And where's she?" asked James.

Lily eyed him suspiciously. "Why are you so interested in her?" she asked her brother, raising her chin and looking at him like a detective would look to a suspect. "You have something on your conscience?"

James backed a little, staggering. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice trembling a little.

"Did you cast her under a spell or something?" Hugo asked him. "Maybe you offered her one of Uncle George's sweets, didn't you?"

"Your sister is not so stupid as to accept one of those sweets," pointed out Lily, "but about the spell…"

"I didn't do anything to her," James broke in, his voice harsher than he had intended. "Now, move away," he repeated to his little nemeses.

"No, you first have to tell us—hey!" protested Lily while her brother gripped her waist and raised her from the first steps that brought to the boys' dorm; he turned and placed her on the other side, towards the common room, then he glared at Hugo, who moved quickly away and let him pass. "And stop bothering me with your stupid jokes," he snapped, before disappearing up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Well, I hope you're happy with yourselves.. Now I'm completely stuck to this story.. Gosh! I need to get it out of my head! Anyway, I have to warn you that my sick mind is thinking about thousands ways to make this story end up with a double suicide.. and then I come back to reality and think about a happy ending.. and then.. I don't know, I'm just sure that I want to explore how they ended up together in the first place.. So, expect something like that soon! My new flames policy is: I'm sick and tired to ask for flames, it doesn't work.. The title of this chapter: well, I think that you shouldn't mind too much about titles in this fic.. I'm making them up and they don't really fit with the story.. so this chapter doesn't mean anything, I know, if I didn't tell you, you wouldn't have got it!

Happy reading and review.. I mean flame.. no, review.. Oh, well do what you want! Happy New Year too!

* * *

**Hmm..**

James was climbing up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. It really was the highest tower of the whole castle and in a cloudless night like that the stars were well visible right above his head, creating a magic game of lights and darks over Hogwarts. James reached the top, there he had spent a few night with his class, staring up at the stars and taking notes about the boring movements of the planets, but he had spent much more time there with Rose in the summer. He wrapped himself in his coat and shivered for the cold, his soft slippers dunking into the white, frozen snow. He kept his head low as he advanced, his face slapped by a merciless wind that came from every direction.

For a moment the Gryffindor boy stopped and his mind was crossed with the thought of the former Headmaster's ghost. Everybody knew that he had died in that place, and it was a tradition to let the first years think that his soul was still out there, ready to devour all the students that adventured out there after curfew. He shook his head and sent that thought away, he had laid there so many times with Rose and nothing had ever happened to them. The ghost was just a story.

He took another step and lowered his eyes on the snow-covered floor, there were some little steps before him, a slim and naked foot, very probably owned by a girl who was thin and not too tall, because the steps didn't sink too deeply in the snow. And among the footprints, there were circular stains the same colour of the curtains that had been hanged around his bed for the last seven years. He bent over them and stood still while a metallic, sour smell reached his nostrils.

He raised his head, disgusted as he understood that the stains that looked like red flowers on the snow were actually blood spots and that they became more frequent as he continued to walk. He staggered, paying a lot of attention not to step over the blood, and when a sweet melody hit his ears, he suddenly raised his head and looked in front of him and stared. On the edge of the tower, with her hands on a battlement, stood a girl. Her long, curly, red hair swing in the wind with the same rhythm of her nightgown, she had her bare feet deep into the snow and under her a puddle of blood was taking shape, tainting the pure white of the snow. She was muttering the tune of a melody that James was sure that he had already heard somewhere, but that he couldn't remember where.

"Rose," he murmured, staring at the figure from the middle of the tower.

The tune stopped and the girl turned her head a little, staying still and listening to the breath of the night, her profile shining under the starlight.

"Rose," James repeated, a hand stretched in front of him.

Rose turned and James felt the urge to throw up. She was white like the snow where she was standing on, her red hair, so similar to his, was a mane of bloody curls, and her chocolaty eyes looked intently at him, a distant expression over her face. Her nightgown fluttered around her breasts and legs, but it was well stuck to her tummy, due to the blood that soaked it. James took a step back and brought a hand to his mouth, trying hard to gulp and fight the desire of being sick in front of her.

"James," she murmured, and a sad smile appeared on her face as she called his name.

James opened his mouth, but no sound exited it. He stepped back and fell on the snow, his slippers flying away. "Rose," he managed to say, short of breath, "what did you do?"

"What you asked me to do," she replied dreamily.

"What?" he mouthed, his face horrified.

"I got rid of it," she murmured. She brought a hand to her belly and pushed over it, some more blood sprinkled, flooding over her small fingers and falling on the snow. "What you asked me to do." A knife escaped her other hand and dunked into the snow, its tainted blade standing a few inches from her feet. She ignored it and climbed down from the stair where she was, walking towards him.

"Rose," he heard himself say, his voice shaken with sobs and sniffles, "I'm sorry."

"Why, James?" she asked in her sweet tone of voice. "I did what you asked me to do."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He felt some hot, salty tears streaming down his cheeks and brought a hand to them to brush them away. He hadn't been crying since his sixth birthday, when Albus deliberately made his cake fall on the floor, how could he cry now? He wasn't even sure that he knew how to do it anymore, but tears were streaming down his cheeks as if they didn't need him to control them. His vision blurred a little and he wiped them away more forcefully.

She stopped and sighed. "I'm not," she replied, "now we can still be together without worrying about a baby, right?"

"Oh, Rose…"

She parted her lips and the sweet melody started again, and suddenly James remembered it; it was a lullaby, the one that their Grandmother Molly used to sing to them when they were at the Burrow during the long, hot summers, it was sweet and heavy with recollections of happy moments.

Without notice, James turned his head and threw up in the snow, the stinging taste of vomit burned his throat and mouth and it tainted the snow next to his hands, his eyes fixed on the disgusting liquid. He coughed, spluttering on the snow, and then grabbed some untouched snow to clean his mouth, sputtering and swallowing at the same time.

He pushed his palms on the cold floor and staggered as he stood up, his hands instinctively searching for the battlements to grip and help himself on his feet. Once he was up he looked at his cousin, his hands on his knees as if he had to take some deeps breaths after a run. "Rose," he panted.

"Yes, James?" she asked, the lullaby stopping over her lips.

James stood up and walked towards her. "I'm sorry, Rose," he said, his voice broken with pain. He widened his arms and looked at her like he would have done with a wounded animal in the forest, trying to attract her to him.

Rose shook her head slightly, and suddenly fear flashed in her eyes, she took a step back, but didn't see the stair and tripped over it. She fell backwards, screaming as her slim body flew on the other side of the battlements.

James looked at his cousin as she fell off the tower, he ran towards the battlement and leaned out, his fingers brushing hers without being able to catch her. He couldn't look away while she fell, her face scared and her hair moving around her, like she was in slow motion, her arms stretched above her while she tried to reach him, her mouth forming his name for the last time while she became smaller with every second that passed. He screamed her name and stretched his arm towards her, pulling the floor with his bare feet, and before he could even understand what he was doing he was flying down above her. Down, down, down..

James let out a cry as he hit the floor, his knees and wrists painfully crashing against the tiles of his bedroom, a twinge exploding in his head. He felt rather than see the lights turning on in the room he shared with his fellow schoolmates, and people that moved around him. Someone kneeled next to them and a palm pressed gently against his cheek, giving him soft slaps to try to reanimate him.

"James," someone from above him said, "hey, James, you all right, mate?"

James moaned and pushed the hand that was slapping him away, then he pressed his own palms against the floor and pushed himself up. "Blimey," he muttered under his breath while more pain added to the one he already felt.

"What?" asked a boy from a bed. "Is he all right?"

"You think I'm all right, you idiot," he moaned, sitting up and massaging his head and wrists, "I fell from the Astronomy Tower."

The boy who had kneeled next to him laughed. "Well, almost all right," he said, "James, mate, you fell from your bed."

James blinked and looked around himself, all his fellow seventh years Gryffindor were looking at him, some were worried, some others amused. "I was on the tower…" he said, trying to remember.

The boy next to him shook his head and some of his sandy hair fell in his eyes. "You were dreaming," he informed him, "and screaming, too."

James closed his eyes for a moment and the nightmare flashed against his lowered eyelids. The tower, the snow, Rose, the blood, his vomit… James felt the tangy taste of his vomit at the bottom of his throat and a new wave of sickness invaded his body and mind. He grabbed the sheets on his bed and brought a hand to his mouth, gesturing furiously for the toilet.

The boy next to him passed his strong arm under James' shoulder and put his friend on his feet, then he helped him to reach the toilet before he could throw up in their dorm, the other boys looking hopefully at them as they walked far from their beds.

James threw himself on the water, feeling sick in it with great joy of all the other boys, his friend patted his back gently, then he gripped James' shoulder tightly until the burping sounds were brought to an end and James fell back on his heels. The boy kneeled next to him another time and offered him a paper towel, James took it and cleaned his mouth.

"You all right?" the boy asked gently.

James looked at him with his eyes wide open, cold sweat running down his temples. "I guess so," he replied quietly. "You said I was screaming, Martin?"

Martin nodded. "You woke us up," he replied.

"Blimey," he muttered, "what was I saying?"

"I didn't get anything, but maybe one of the boys--"

"Yes, ask them," he urged him.

Martin cast him a strange glance, but stood up and walked to his fellow schoolmates. James heard them muttering something, then people were shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders.

"No," said Martin, coming back while James got on his feet and placed his head under the water in the basin, "you weren't screaming anything understandable, apparently."

James closed his eyes and swallowed some of the fresh water, when he raised his head he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and stared, he was white like a ghost, with cold sweat that ran down the cheeks that he felt as if they were on fire, his red hair stuck to his forehead, his brown eyes ringed. "I think I'm not feeling well," he said weakly.

"Well, it's not surprising," said Martin, his arms crossed on his chest, "you've been out all the afternoon, wandering Merlin's only know where, what's got into you? Are you planning to get sick before the next match against Slytherin?"

James gripped the sink with force and closed his eyes. "It's just a flu, for Merlin's beard, Martin, give it a rest and help me to the Hospital Wing." He stretched a hand towards his friend, who took it. "I'll be out of there tomorrow morning, like new."

"You better be," said Martin, chuckling, "the next match is this Saturday."

"I told you--"

"I know, I know," he cut him off, "you're the captain and son of Harry Potter here, I believe you."

James growled something that sounded like a 'you better do', and let his friend guide him towards the Hospital Wing.

"Martin," James murmured once they had gone past the tricky stairs that brought downstairs and had entered into the common room, his eyes darting to the stairs that brought to the girls' dorm. "Can I ask you something?"

"Whoa, man," he replied, moving a little aside, "I'm taken, you know…"

James snorted, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious," he muttered.

"Me too," replied Martin, nudging at him. He chuckled and added, "What, mate?"

James looked around himself, and when he spoke, his voice was so low that Martin had to stop breathing to hear him. "Can you not let anybody know about this?" he asked, his cheeks now even more on fire.

Martin raised his eyebrows. "Well, I haven't planned to put a notice in the common room about you being sick in the bathroom, but maybe your siblings and cousins want to know that you're not exactly well," he said thoughtfully.

"I am well," he replied sharply, "I just need Madam Pomfrey to give me one of her damn healing potions." He tightened his weak hand around his friend's arm and smirked slightly. "Although I'll say that you took advantage of me due to the fact that I'm too weak to fight you back."

Martin looked at him disgusted. "You're sick, man," he informed his friend.

James closed his eyes, but he didn't answer. He definitely agreed with him, but there was no need to let him know. "And especially not my cousin," he murmured so quietly that Martin didn't get it, thinking, on the contrary that it was just another moan of pain as they walked in the dark corridors towards the Hospital Wing.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Yeah, I'm here again.. putting this chapter up that has a lot of titles.. First of all "Flashes 1" (because there'll be a two and a three, if necessary..), then "How they got together", then "How everything started", then "How my obsession started" and finally "Blimey!". Anyway, I officially chose the first one. I enjoyed writing the first two pieces of this chapter more than I should have, those midgets are funny to write. As always this chapter is unbetaed. Go on, review and flame..

* * *

**Flashes 1**

"Hugo, Lily," Mrs Weasley's voice echoed for the grounds around the Burrow, "James, Albus, Rose." But nothing more than hushed cries and far away giggles answered her. She brought her plump hands to her hips and scowled to nothing in particular, her eyes travelling for the fields and the lake. "Dinner is ready," she continued, "if you don't show up in less than five seconds I swear that you won't get anything." She heard hushed laughs from the kitchen and turned to glare at Victoire and Teddy, who were amused by Molly's efforts to get a grip on the situation. She hushed them with a finger on her lips and turned to look at the fields. "Five," she started, raising a hand and counting on her fingers, "four, three, two--"

A group of children, tall more or less like the wild grass that grew near the pond, started a race towards the Burrow, their shorts and t-shirts dirty and torn in more places, their hair masses of knots and their faces the colour of the ground. A little James was running in the front, followed closely by his brother Albus, and behind them the other three children were trying hard to keep up with their paces.

Molly moved away from the door and looked at them as they finished their race into the entrance of her house, sliding on the floor with their bare, muddy feet.

"First!" cried six-year-old James, jumping up and down and sticking out his tongue to the others.

"You cheated," said a little Rose with a mass of impressive curly, red hair, her arms crossed over her chest, and on her face a resolute expression.

"Yes, you did!" a Lily and a the young Hugo chorused behind her, nodding seriously and very probably not even understanding the meaning of the word _cheated_.

"No, I didn't!" replied James, taking a step towards Rose and looking threateningly at her.

"You counted to three, but started at two," she said bravely looking into his eyes, a murmur of approval at her back.

"You can't even count," he replied, sticking out his tongue to her.

"Yes, I can," she replied, sticking out her tongue as well.

"No, you can't."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you--"

"That's enough," said Mrs Weasley, closing the door at his back and stepping into the hall of the Burrow. She looked down at her grandchildren and shook her head, sighing deeply. "Look at you," she said, pulling out a tea towel from her apron and brushing Hugo's face. "You look like lost boys."

Hugo complained about his grandmother's unwanted attentions and managed to slide away from her hands, a dark expression over his little, freckled face. "Grandma," he exclaimed, brushing his face with his hands.

Mrs Weasley scowled at him. "What would your mother say, if she saw you like this?" she asked, then grabbed his arm and guided him towards the nearest toilet. "Come you all," she said, looking at the other four over her shoulder, "wash your hands before dinner."

The five little children, influenced by James, assumed that everything was a task or a race, and so even the run to the basin for washing their hands was filled with pushes and hands that pulled at each other's hair, with screams and water all over the toilet, and usually a very nervous, but happy Mrs Weasley that took someone from their ears, usually Albus and James, and brought them into the kitchen.

"Grandma, I think that the meat loaf is ready," said the sweet voice of Victoire from the kitchen.

"Turn off the fire under the pot, will you dear?" Mrs Weasley answered, while Lily tried to swallow some soap. "No, Lily, no," she said, taking it away from the girl, "you're still quite clean inside, sweetie." The woman closed the water and grabbed some arms at random and with her grandchildren came back into the kitchen. "Thank you, Victoire," she said, seeing that the dishes were already on the table.

"Viccoire," said Hugo, "you know that I found a grof in the pond?"

Victoire kneeled next to her cousin. "You found a frog, Hugo?" she said, smiling.

"Yes, a grof!" he replied, clapping his hands, "I wanted to bring it to you, but Rose told me that you didn't want it."

"And it's true," said Rose, sitting at the table next to Albus, "right, Victoire?"

Victoire raised her eyes on Teddy and smiled, Teddy blushed, but he managed to smile back to her. "I would have preferred a flower, actually," she said gently, trying not to hurt the child.

Hugo seemed to consider that and then he nodded. "There are a lots of flowfy," he said, "I can go and pick one up for you!"

"Sure, sure," Victoire hurried to say, "but after dinner." She looked at her grandmother, who was glaring at her. "Or maybe tomorrow," she added quickly.

Hugo nodded happily, he took his cousin's face in his hands and gave her a kiss on her cheek between the giggles of the girls and the disgusted sounds of Albus and James, and when he reached his sister and cousins at the table, dinner eventually started.

"Where's grandpa, grandma?" asked Albus with his mouth full of meat loaf.

"At work," she replied, placing a bowl of salad on the table, all the children looked scared towards the green vegetables. "He'll be home late tonight," she continued, "there's a lot of work to do lately." The children nodded vaguely, not very interested in their grandfather's job.

James pushed the bowl of salad towards his sister. "You have to eat the greens, although the greens will eat you," he said to her, smirking.

Lily looked at the green leaves with fear and moved away her arm from the bowl, her eyes went to the oldest people at that table, but her grandmother was busy with some roast potatoes that had stuck to the pan, while Teddy and Victoire were busy in a conversation about Hogwarts. They didn't think at anything else since Victoire had started school the year before.

"It's not true, Lily," said Rose, looking at James and pushing the bowl away from her cousin. "He says this just because he wants to scary you."

James grimaced at Rose and raised his hand to make a very rude gesture, but unfortunately his grandmother turned right in that moment and before James could even understand what was happening he found his fingers all stuck together.

"James Potter Junior!" screeched Molly, her wand pointed towards him, "I don't want to see anything like that from you!" She looked her other grandchildren and put her hands on her hips. "I don't want to see anything like that from any of you," she said, while a deadly silence fell on the kitchen. "Say to Rose that you are sorry," she thundered.

James raised his eyes on a very satisfied Rose and crossed his arms on his chest, he opened his mouth, but would rather swallow an eye of newt than tell his cousin that he was sorry.

"James!" barked Mrs Weasley.

"I'm sorry, Rose," he muttered so calmly that nobody got it.

"What did you say?" asked Rose, trying hard not to laugh.

"I'm sorry, Rose," he repeated louder, rolling his eyes as he did so.

"What did--"

"Rose," Mrs Weasley interrupted her granddaughter, "that's enough."

Rose's smile disappeared from her face, while her grandmother glared at her. She raised her eyes on James and saw that it was his time to smirk satisfied. She narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue to him.

Mrs Weasley sighed, but from that moment on dinner went on without further hitches, the children screaming and fighting like every other day, while James tried forcefully to divide his fingers. Once the youngest couldn't be kept any more at the table, Teddy was given the task to keep an eye on them in the living room, while Mrs Weasley and Victoire cleaned up the kitchen.

"Teddy, when will you show us the spells?" asked Albus, exploring his nostril with his fingers and studying what he had found there.

Teddy looked at him and frowned. "Albus, that's disgusting," he said, "and I can't show any spell, I'm not of age, yet."

James climbed on the armrest of the armchair where Teddy was sitting and gestured him to get closer to him, he cupped his hands around Teddy's ear and whispered, "Can't you at least tell us how to get rid of those girls?" he whispered, his eyes going to Lily and Rose who were composedly playing on the couch with some old dolls.

Teddy chuckled as he listened to the little boy's request. Then he turned towards him and ruffled his already messy hair. "You might not like them now, midget," he said, grinning, "but you'll learn that you can't live without them."

James crossed his arms and sat on the armrest of Teddy's armchair. "I will never like any girl," he snorted, "especially not those two."

"Let's talk about this in… how old are you?" he asked to James.

James held five fingers up in front of Teddy's nose. "Six," he said.

Teddy frowned. "Well, those are five," he pointed out.

James looked at his fingers and brought down his thumb. "Six," he repeated.

"Well," said Teddy, scratching his temple, "now they are four."

James looked at his fingers again and frowned. "How many of these are six?" he asked, causing Teddy to burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?" asked Victoire, walking gracefully in the living room and sitting next to her cousins, who immediately asked her if she wanted to join them with their dolls. Teddy's laughter turned in a dumb smile when she looked at him, and that made James snort.

"Well, well, well," said Mrs Weasley walking into the living after her granddaughter, "little Weasleys and Potters should be in bed by now."

A chorus of protests answered her.

"No, grandma," said Albus.

"It's still early," added Lily.

"We can't go to bed," complained Hugo.

Mrs Weasley grabbed Hugo's waist and tickled it with her plump fingers. "You can't go to bed?" she asked, grinning. "And who's saying this?"

"No, grandma!" laughed Hugo as Mrs Weasley raised him from the floor and pulled him in her lap. He grabbed the armrest and tried to resist her, his little legs swinging over her voluminous skirt.

"Hey, where are you going?" she asked, pulling him back. "I want a hug first."

Hugo turned, his freckled face wearing a grin over it, he grabbed his grandmother's neck and not only he squeezed her in a hug, but he also kissed her cheeks and nose, very happy to accomplish to what he was told to do.

"And now off to bed," she said, putting him on the floor.

Hugo yawned and brushed his eyelids with his hands, he half closed his eyes and stretched a hand towards his grandmother, who took it and started to climb up the stairs, calling her other grandchildren with their names.

"I don't want to go," said James, crossing his arms and standing next to Teddy. "I want to stay here and talk with you of things only the grow ups talk about."

Victoire laughed a gentle laugh, and her face lit up with amusement.

Teddy, instead, looked at him with a frown. "Maybe in five years or so," he replied.

"But I'm old," he pointed out.

"Are you?" asked Teddy, tapping the armrest with his nails.

James nodded. "I'm the oldest," he proclaimed proudly.

"Yeah, well, the other midgets are just five or so, aren't they?" asked Teddy. "It doesn't exactly count, does it?"

Victoire suppressed a fit of giggles as she saw thirteen-year-old Teddy trying to reason with a little boy of just six years, who had had his birthday the week before, and during which he had screamed against his brother for half of the time and had cried for his ruined cake for the other half.

"Go to bed, sweetie," said Victoire, her lovely smile making Teddy go dumb and making James roll his eyes. But the little boy did as he was told and as he climbed reluctantly up the stairs, he cursed every girl of the world.

* * *

"I don't want to play hide and seek again!" protested Lily, stomping her feet on the ground.

James rolled his eyes. "We always play hide and seek, why wouldn't you play it now?" he hissed.

"Because you never seek, and always hide," Hugo complained.

"It's not my fault if I'm the one in charge here," said James haughtily.

"And who says that you are in charge?" asked Rose, her lovely yellow dress swinging around her waist.

James rolled his eyes. "I'm the oldest, and today is my birthday," he protested, "so today I'm in charge."

"You're always in charge," said Albus.

"Yes, you are!" echoed Hugo. "I want Rose to be in charge, she's old too."

"She's six, and I'm seven." James snorted. "But who am I talking to? You don't even know how to count up to three."

"Yes, I do!" protested Hugo. He showed his hand in front of his cousin and counted on his fingers as he said, "One, two, three."

Albus chuckled, but James reduced him to silence with a glare. "Okay, Hugo, if you can count up to ten I'll be the one that seek."

Lily and Albus looked anxiously at the youngest Weasley, but Rose shook her head sadly, while her brother started a counting that, Rose knew, he would have never brought to an end.

"One," said Hugo, raising his fingers above his head, "two, three, five--"

"Wrong, Hugo," said James triumphantly.

Hugo glanced briefly at his sister, who mouthed a 'four' to him. "Four," he said, his face deep in thought, "five… five…"He looked again at his sister, but this time James looked at her as well.

"No help," he thundered.

Rose stuck out her tongue and looked away, and Hugo looked to the other members of his family, but James silenced them with a glare before they could even open their mouths.

"I don't know," said Hugo miserably, remembering that his mother had told him that the numbers would have been useful at some point of his life and feeling guilty. "I've not yet studied them."

"Well, then I think that we have found our seeker," said James triumphantly. He grabbed Hugo's arm and brought him near the closest tree. "Count up to one hundred," he ordered him.

"He can't do that," snapped Rose, standing near her brother. "He can't even count up to ten."

James darkened. "Then, you count," he ordered her, turning on his heels without accepting any complaint. Lily and Albus looked at her without knowing what to say or do, but Hugo grinned and ran away, already searching for a place where to hide.

Rose snorted and turned her face towards the trunk tree, she leaned against it and started to count. One, two, three…ten, eleven…twenty-five…thirty-six…fifty… Rose knew perfectly well why James never wanted to seek, count up to one hundred was one of the most boring things she'd ever done, and looking for her cousins and brother was even more terrible. She glanced at the Burrow, where her grandparents, her parents, her older cousins and other relatives were sitting, talking and laughing and eating the huge birthday cake that they managed to keep away from Albus' hands that year.

"…ninety-nine, one hundred," she said out loud, "I'm coming."

She turned and looked around herself. They were well hidden, she conceded them, but they wouldn't have surely being able to remain silent during all her seeking, they usually giggled and chuckled at some point of the hiding. She started to walk towards the pond; she knew that Lily loved to hide near it, because she always said that she wanted to try to hide under the water once, and use the canes that grew there to breath like she her father told her the students did when they went swimming in the Lake near Hogwarts.

Rose lowered her eyes and looked through the high canes and the wild grass, she held her breath, but the sunburned grass cracked under her feet. She heard a hushed giggle and then a little figure zoomed out of a bush, running towards the tree where Rose had counted up to one hundred.

"Lily!" she screamed, laughing, "I found you!" She ran up after her, trying to touch the trunk first, but Lily was quite quick for a girl of her age and she literally went crashing against the trunk just to be the first to touch it. She bumped back and banged against Rose, and they fell back and rolled for a while, screaming and laughing.

"I won!" cried Lily, standing up and jumping up and down around Rose. "I won! I won! I won!"

Rose rolled her eyes, she stood up as well and looked worried at her yellow dress, all dirtied with soil and grass. She tried to brush the stains away with her hands, but it just got worst, so Rose shrugged her shoulders slightly, faking that she didn't mind about what her mother would have told her once she had seen her dress. "Now, stay here," she said to her cousin, pushing her against the trunk, "and don't warn the others that I'm coming."

Lily nodded, her big brown eyes shining with joy while her cousin asked her to do something so important. Rose turned and went back to her seeking. The pond was surely free now, James and Albus were too smart to hide in the same place of someone else, and Hugo usually followed the two of them more willingly than he would have followed Lily, even if Lily and Rose were the ones always there to play with him when the other two excluded him from their games.

Rose walked towards the bushes and held her breath while she searched for something that wouldn't have fitted between the bright green of the leaves and the white flowers in her grandmother's part of the garden. And there, there was someone, if it were Albus she might have missed him, because of his black hair between the shadowed leaves, and if he was Hugo he would have surely been too short to be visible, but since it was James, his bright red hair clashed terribly with the bushes and made him an easy prey.

Rose stretched her arm towards her cousin, giggling softly under her breath as she slapped his head and screamed, "James, I found you!" And then she started to run towards the trunk where she had counted up to one hundred.

But James would have done anything not to seek his siblings and cousins around the garden, even cheating. He was in charge there and he couldn't lose in front of them, they respected him because he was the oldest, because he could count up to a thousand (even if Rose was almost as good as him in that), because he always bossed them around and because he had never lost at hide and seek.

He sprinted towards his cousin and, grabbing her hair, he pulled her backwards, while he passed by her side. She let out a cry and brought her hands to her hair, while her sight blurred slightly for the pain.

"Go, Rose! Go, Rose!" screamed Lily as she saw her brother running towards the trunk where she was standing, her hands went to hug the tree to not let him touch it.

James grinned, but his face fell quite quickly as Rose threw herself over his back, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending him on the ground, under her. She pushed on his back, trying to stand up, but her cousin grabbed her arm and rolled her under him, pinning her wrists under his hands on the grass.

"Let me go!" screamed Rose, kicking him with her little legs. "Let me go or…"

James growled, showing her his teeth as if he was a dog. "You'll pay for what you dared to do!" he screamed.

Rose jerked her wrists and sunk her dirty nails in her cousin's hands, screaming as if the nails had deepened in her skin instead of his.

James bit his bottom lip, but he very manly fought the urge to cry or move his hands away. "You can't do anything, you're my captive now!" he grunted to her.

"I'll call mum," she replied, her mouth closing in a thin line. "Mum! Mum!" she screamed.

"Not even Aunt Hermione can save you from my rage," he hissed to her.

"Then I'll kiss you!" she announced threateningly.

James' eyes widened as he looked shocked at her. She couldn't have said anything more terrible than that, and she knew it. She knew how to use her arms.

"You wouldn't dare!" he retorted, but before he could move his head away she had already raised her head and pressed her lips against his. There was no smooch or sucking, because no one of them knew how to kiss, they had just watched the adults do that when they thought that they weren't seen by their curious eyes, and it looked like a very disgusting thing, especially for the boys.

James let her go at once and fell back on the grass, his eyes wide, while Rose wore a triumphant smile and ran towards the trunk, screaming 'I won' and sticking her tongue to him. But James couldn't have cared less if she got there first, she had kissed him and that was the worst way of cheating, he would have come up with a terrific punishment for her, but first…

James made a disgusted face, he brought his arm to his mouth and wiped it several times, leaving a wet trail over the smooth skin of his forearm. Then he stood up and ran towards the Burrow, screaming like a Banshee, "Mum! Mum!"

Ginny's eyes darted to her son when she saw him running towards her like that, his face screwed up with disgust. She took some steps towards the grounds and Harry with her, while all the others adults turned their attention to the scene. Albus and Hugo came out of their shelters and walked up to the Burrow with Rose and Lily, all curious to follow what was going to happen.

"Mum!" he kept on screaming even after he had crashed against his mother's belly, his too short arms trying unsuccessfully to circle her waist.

"What?" asked Ginny alarmed, caressing her son's hair. Her eyes darted to the other children, and as she saw that they all were all right she let out a sigh of relief. It was just another fight, none got hurt.

"Rose!" said James, turning his head towards his cousin and pointing a finger to her. "Mum, tell her something!" He seemed to think hard and added, "No, mum, punish her!"

Ginny looked at Rose and frowned slightly. "What happened?" she asked as Hermione looked questioningly at her daughter.

Rose felt her cheeks on fire as everybody's eyes turned on her. She brought her hands behind her back and pouted.

"She kissed me," hissed James, "here on my mouth." He pointed towards his lips and looked at his mother.

"I had to!" protested Rose, her voice thinner than that of her cousin. "He didn't want to let me go."

Harry let out a chuckle, but Mrs Weasley looked concerned at them, her eyes travelling from James to Rose.

Ron walked towards Rose and kneeled next to his daughter, who wouldn't look at him. "You really kissed him?" asked Ron, trying to stay serious.

Rose nodded, and her eyes filled with tears. She turned towards her father and threw her arms around his neck, climbing up on his torso and soaking him with tears. "I didn't want to do that," she sobbed, "but he was cheating at hide and seek, again."

"You were cheating, James?" asked Harry, looking seriously at his son.

"No," he lied.

A chorus of yeses sounded between the children and Harry looked even more severely at James, who was pressing hard against his mother and trying to become as smaller as he could. With the others he was a leader, but with the adults he was just a midget, as Teddy called them.

"James," Ginny called him. "What did we say about lying?"

"But I wasn't cheating," he continued.

"James," said Harry, "behave, although I don't care if it's your birthday or not, we are going home." He looked at him. "You want to go home?" he asked.

James shook his head and pouted, hugging his mother even more forcefully.

"Then go and play fairly," he said.

James nodded and got away from his mother, he ran back to the tree, followed by Albus, Lily and Hugo, and started to give them orders as usual. Rose turned her head away from her father and looked at them, her tears stopped to fall almost at once as she watched them with a mixture of longing and hatred while they walked away screaming and laughing.

"You want to go and play with them?" asked Ron, putting her on her feet.

She nodded slightly, her hands again behind her back.

"Then don't kiss James anymore," he said, a finger raised in her direction as he warned her. "Although we are going home too."

"Yes, dad," she said, before running away towards the other children.

"And don't dirty your dress," called Hermione after her.

"It's already soiled, Hermione," replied Ron, brushing his hands against his jeans to clean them. Hermione sighed and collapsed on her chair, going back with her chats with Ginny and Fleur about the impressively high prices of children's cereals.

The children played hide and seek again, until the sun set under the hills and their parents called them to get inside. James never seek and his cousins and siblings didn't complain. He was in charge after all.

* * *

Albus peered out of the door of his room and closed the door at his back, paying attention to do as less noise as possible. He turned and came back to sit with his brother and cousins, in a circle on the floor. "You shouldn't be here," he whispered to Rose, "if grandma finds you here, she'll get as angry as she was when she found Victoire in Teddy's room after midnight."

Rose raised her chin haughtily and wrapped the night dress tightly around her body. "I want to listen to James too," she said curtly. "I'm going to Hogwarts as well in September, and I want to know what to expect."

Albus glanced at his brother and James nodded stiffly. "She's right, after all," he said calmly, "and I actually saw a couple of things that she's doing all wrong for someone that wants to go to Hogwarts."

Rose gritted her teeth and closed her fists tightly, she had never heard that there were right or wrong things that the children had to do for going to Hogwarts, or at least her mother had never mentioned anything like that, and her mother wasn't one that joked about this kind of stuff.

"Really?" asked Hugo, his big blue eyes wide open as he looked from James to Rose. "And she might not go to Hogwarts?"

"Maybe," answered James vaguely.

"That's a lie," hissed Rose, "only Squibs can't go to Hogwarts."

James rolled his eyes, it wasn't funny to scare his older cousin, she knew too many things and she had learned with the time not to believe in almost anything he said, but if she was there it meant that he still had some influence over her. She had sneaked out of the room she shared with Lily after the ridiculously early curfew that her grandmother had decide to force them to after she found Victoire and Teddy in something that she called a 'compromising position' in Teddy's room. No girls in the boys' rooms and no girls in the boys' room after ten in the afternoon, and if Rose was there, breaking a rule that her grandmother had imposed her, it meant that James still held some power over her.

"Come on, James," whispered Albus, "tell us something about Hogwarts." And Hugo nodded excited.

James wore a satisfied expression, he liked to have the little ones looking at him like that. It made him feel important again, after a year away from them. "Well," he started, "Hogwarts is the biggest place I've ever been to."

"Bigger than the Burrow?" asked Hugo, his eyes wide.

"The Burrow would fit in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, Hugo," he replied, glad to hear a surprised 'ooh' after his statement.

"Bigger than Harrods?" asked Albus, taking away his messy hair from his face.

"Bigger than anything that has something to do with the Muggles," he said.

"Bigger than the Ministry of Magic?" questioned Rose, one of her eyebrows cocking slightly.

"Bigger," he said curtly, without being so sure himself.

"My mum says that there's nothing bigger than the Ministry," she replied.

"Hogwarts is bigger," snapped James.

"But my mum has been at Hogwarts for six years and at the Ministry for eighteen, she must know which one--"

Rose's voice was suddenly silenced from Albus' hand as a light turned on in the landing and some steps passed before the door. They all held their breaths, crossing their fingers that it wasn't their grandmother, coming to see if they were all safe and warm in their beds. But none entered and instead the steps passed by them with a quick pace and went towards the stairs.

Albus released Rose's mouth. "It was just Victoire," he whispered.

They all nodded in agreement and sighed in relief.

"Okay," whispered James to them, "if I say that it's bigger than the Ministry, you have to believe me. If you don't believe me you have to go away."

"You have to go away, Rose," echoed Hugo, nodding.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'm sorry," she said, "go on."

James nodded seriously. "Well, there's a ceremony at Hogwarts, for the first years," he started.

"The Sorting Ceremony," exclaimed Rose, while the three boys shushed at her.

"No," replied James, "well, yes, but there's another one first." He looked around them as if he was telling a ghost tale. "Between the place where people get off from the Hogwarts Express and the school there's a lake--"

"Like the lake of the Burrow?" asked Hugo.

"No, that's just a pond," said Albus.

"Precisely," continued James, "the one at Hogwarts is huge, and it's the home of a monster."

"A monster?" asked Albus, urging his brother to tell him more.

James nodded. "A Giant Squid that every time there's something that moves in his lake it seizes it and eats it," he said, pausing for suspense. "And when the first years arrive at Hogwarts for the first time, the Headmistress push them into the Lake."

"That's ridiculous," muttered Rose, gaining glares from the other three boys.

"It's true," replied James, "and they have to swim towards the castle."

"And the Squid doesn't eat them?" asked Albus, gulping.

"Oh yes, of course it does," he said, "that's why on the Hogwarts Express there are always two hundreds first years, but only a few people manage to arrive at the school."

Hugo swallowed, his eyes even wider than before.

"It's like a task," he explained, "so to decide if a boy or a girl is strong enough to go to Hogwarts or not."

"And you did it?" asked Albus, his eyes full of admiration for his brother.

"Of course I did it," he replied, straightening his back to seem taller, "I'm here."

"That's impossible," snapped Rose, her arms crossed on her chest, "mum and dad never talked about such a task."

James rolled his eyes at her. "Because it's something that the first years shouldn't know," he replied, "although they wouldn't go to Hogwarts anymore." He looked at them and smiled. "But I told you so that you can training and pass the task." He looked at Rose. "If you believe me," he added softly.

Rose looked away and swallowed hard. She didn't believe him, her parents would have surely told her if there was such a task, wouldn't they? They wouldn't have kept something like that from her, wouldn't they?

"And then, James," Hugo urged him, "tell us something else."

"Well, there's the Forbidden Forest around the castle and that's where they send the students that are late for class." He lowered his voice. "Some of them never come back."

A murmur ran through the others as they watched their cousin's deadly serious face.

"And when there's the Sorting Ceremony, you want to end up in Gryffindor," he said quickly, enjoying his role as a storytelling more than he had imagined, "because all the other houses are just like poo and if you end up in them it's like never receive anything for Christmas anymore, from the whole family."

Albus swallowed. "And what do we have to do to end up in Gryffindor?" he asked quickly.

James grinned triumphantly. "Well, for example you don't have to do what Rose's doing," he said, waving a hand in front of them.

Rose looked at him, taken aback. "Why? What am I doing?" she asked heatedly.

"Studying too much," he replied, grimacing at her, "only the Ravenclaws study so much and if you keep on reading books that you won't need until your fifth year, you'll end up in Ravenclaw."

"I wouldn't care," she said challengingly, her hands on her hips like her grandmother would have done while lecturing them.

"I'm sure you would when Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione abandoned you, I would care," hissed James.

"My parents aren't don't care about these things," she hissed back.

"Want to bet?" he asked her, his voice gradually raising, while he stood up and grimaced at her.

Rose stood up as well. "Okay, but when you'll lose don't--"

The door opened suddenly and whatever they were going to say remained unspoken as Mrs Weasley walked in. "Rose Weasley!"she thundered, Lily in her arms. "What are you doing here?"

Rose's eyes filled with fear and shame for being found there by her grandmother, she, who never broke any rule at all, was there after curfew in the boys' room. She was surely in trouble.

Hugo walked quickly towards his grandmother. "James was telling us about Hogwarts," he said, looking at Lily, who had her head on her grandmother's shoulder. "Lily is not well?"

"Lily," said Mrs Weasley, "ran in the kitchen, crying that she didn't find Rose anymore, that she woke up and she wasn't in bed." Mrs Weasley glared at Rose. "And so we looked for her all over the house, and I couldn't believe that I would have found her here." She sighed. "Rose Weasley, you've really deluded me."

Rose lowered her eyes and stood still, her white, little face slightly pouting.

"But we weren't doing anything, Grandma Molly," broke in James. The other children looked at him with their mouths wide open as he helped Rose getting out of trouble. "I was just telling them about Hogwarts."

Molly looked down at him with a serious expression. "Nevertheless, James, she was here in your room in the middle of the night," she replied calmly. "Rose, I'll owl your parents tomorrow. And now I want you all off to bed in your own bedrooms."

Rose seemed ready to cry, but she managed to fight back the tears as she followed her grandmother out of the bedroom. Standing in the landing, she turned to glance at James before the door closed at her back and her grandmother pushed her up the stairs towards Ginny's old bedroom.

Albus looked through the keyhole until they were out of sight, then he turned and ran towards his bed, between that of James and the one of Hugo.

"You think my mum and dad won't let her take the train for Hogwarts the first of September?" Hugo asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"They might," replied Albus.

"Rubbish," said James, his voice strong and heavy, "we hadn't done anything at all. We were just talking. Aunt Hermione might punish her, but she'll go to Hogwarts."

"But what if--"

"Shut up, Hugo," snapped James, "I want to sleep." And as silence fell in the room, they softly drifted into some agitated dreams about Hogwarts, giant squids, forests and girls.

* * *

Hogwarts wasn't as terrible as James had portrayed it that night. There was the Lake which was as huge as a sea, as he had said, and the Forbidden Forest around the castle, which was quite big too, but the first years weren't asked to swim their way through the Lake when they arrived there for the first time; and no one was sent to the Forbidden Forest for just being late. And the other houses weren't like poo, Rose had some incredibly nice friends in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff; and plus Scorpius was in Slytherin, so they shouldn't have been that terrible as well. And James had lied also on the studying thing. She had ended up in Gryffindor, like Albus, and still she knew more things than a lot of Ravenclaws.

Rose loved Hogwarts. She loved it more or less like her mother and her Uncle Harry had done when they were younger. It was the most perfect place on Earth for her, and its library, with all those books, was her second home and the place where she would have gone to live if she could have chosen. And so her first year and half of her second had flown away, her marks being the best of the whole school, and her flying skills maybe the worst Hogwarts had seen in a couple of decades, maybe since Hermione had left school.

But during that rainy afternoon of February Rose Weasley was sitting in the common room of her house and not in the library, her lap filled with books and pieces of parchment, her hands stained with ink and her eyebrows high on her forehead, when her cousin hurried at her side and sat down next to her, a big, shining smile on his face.

"Guess what, Rose?" he whispered urgently to her.

Rose raised her eyes on him, her freckled face smiling a little. "I don't know, you finally earned some points for our house?" she asked calmly.

James snorted. "Funny," he said. "No, I've been accepted in the team!" he exclaimed.

Rose looked confused at him. "But, weren't the selections in October?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, they were," he hurried to explain, "but Tracy McCaughey is leaving the team because she can't keep up with the trainings and her study and so I've been asked to play at her place!"

"Tracy McCaughey," she said slowly, trying to see if that name made ring any bell in her head.

"She was the Seeker," he said. "I'll be a Seeker, like my father!" He leaned back against the armchair and smiled in bliss.

Rose giggled. "You've never wanted to seek when we played hide and seek," she reminded him, "why are you so engrossed into playing as a Seeker?"

James shook his head. "Being a Seeker for the Quidditch team is totally different than searching a group of children around your grandparents' house." He shrugged. "I knew that you wouldn't have understood," he added, sighing, "and I can't believe that you're the first person I told it."

Rose's giggles faded away as she looked at him. "The first person?" she asked, a faint blush over her cheeks. "Really?"

James nodded. "Yeah," he replied quietly, looking everywhere but at her.

"Why?" she asked, leaning against the armrest and looking at him with her curious, chocolaty eyes.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said simply.

"Ah, okay," she murmured, deluded. She leaned back on the armchair and lowered her eyes on the parchments, trying to find out the point she had reached so far.

"By the way," said James, trying very badly to fake a casual tone, "what were you doing with Scorpius Malfoy?"

Rose didn't raised her eyes, but she tossed her hair away from her eyes. "When?" she asked carelessly. She did something with Scorpius and Albus basically every day of her life, she couldn't remember everything.

"Two days ago," he said, "near the Potions classroom. He had his hands on your shoulders and you were laughing, then he whispered something in your ear and you blushed and—what?"

Rose had raised her eyes and was looking at James with a flabbergasted expression. "James," she said, "what have you done? Spy on me?" she asked, shock dripping from every word.

James looked alarmed. "No, no," he hurried to say, "I was just passing by and I saw you two and-" He looked at her with a serious expression. "-for Merlin's beard, Rose, he's a Malfoy!"

Rose snorted. "I don't really care if he's a Malfoy or a Weasley or a Potter," she snapped, "we are friends and you won't stand between us."

"I just want to protect you, Rose," replied James.

"And I don't need your protection, James," she retorted, standing up and gathering her things in her arms.

"I don't want to see you suffer," he called after her as she walked away, some of the few Gryffindors turning to look at them as they did so.

"I won't suffer," she snapped, "and if I do, then look somewhere else."

James closed his fists and gritted his teeth. "Fine," he barked.

"Fine," answered Rose, walking out of the portrait hole.

"Fine," muttered James to himself, he kicked the sofa and cursed under his breath. She really was the most stubborn and insufferable of all Know-It-Alls, and unluckily that was exactly what made her his favourite cousin.

* * *

Rose raised her eyes from her homework when someone knocked at her door. "Come in," she said her voice hoarse because she had not used in the last few hours.

The door opened and a red head appeared. "Don't tell me that you're still studying," sighed James as he walked in her bedroom, closed the door and went sitting on her bed without waiting for her to invite him to sit down, "you started right after lunch and it's almost dinner time."

Rose turned her chair as to face him, she passed a hand in her hair, tossing them away from her eyes and smiled. "Well, this third year was quite hectic for me," she replied quietly, "and I've so many new things to keep up with."

"Really?" asked James, eyeing her books.

She nodded. "So many new and exciting subjects," she said, "for example this Ancient Runes is incredible, and I can already read quite a lot of stories from the book that mum gave to me." She grabbed a red book with golden decorations and a title in runes on it.

"Yeah, interesting," said James, sounding anything but interested.

Rose rolled her eyes, but smiled. "It's _The Tales of Beedle the Bard,"_ she informed him.

James looked at her as if she was crazy. "And you're making all this effort to read a book in runes while I'm sure that Grandma Molly has one in English right downstairs in the living room?" he asked her.

"It's just to make some exercise with runes, James," she said, taking the book back from his hands. She put it away and turned to him. "What did you want, by the way?" she asked, scratching her neck, one of the straps of her yellow sundress falling down her shoulder. She pulled it up and flushed softly.

James shrugged slightly. "I was just checking on you, since you seem to disappear up here every morning and every afternoon," he said, gesturing around.

"I don't disappear," she replied amused, "I just have homework to do." She glanced at him. "Like you should do."

James shook his head softly. "I really can't be bothered with my homework now," he cracked, "I'm on holiday."

"A reason to dedicate more time to your homework and to not forget things," she said.

James nodded, pretending to be impressed. "You know what, Rose?" he said. "You convinced me."

Rose frowned slightly. "Really?" she asked. "It was quite easy."

"Yes, blimey, Rose, I'll start my homework right tomorrow," he said, slapping his knee theatrically.

"Why I don't believe you?" she questioned, sighing.

"No, I swear." He raised his right hand and placed it on his chest. "Word of wizard." He smiled mischievously and added, "I'll start my homework if you come out for a walk with me right now."

"What?" She was dazed. "And leaving my homework behind?" She turned her chair and took a quill in her hand. "Forget it, James Potter."

"I forgot to tell you that I won't accept a no," he said, standing up and grabbing her arm in his hand. "Come on," he invited her, pulling her towards him.

"No, James, no!" she complained, as she was pulled on her feet against her will. She dug her heels in the carpet and tried to resist him, pulling on the other part. "I need to study."

"You need some fresh air," he grunted, pulling more forcefully. "You can't stay here for the whole summer."

"Yes, I can and—hey!" she complained as James suddenly let her go and she stepped back, falling on her back on her bed. She pushed with her elbows, to get up, but James was on her before she could actually move. He pinned her wrists at the sides of her head, and tightened his thighs around her waist to keep her in place.

"James!" she cried, glaring at him. "Let me go right now." She snorted. "We aren't five years old anymore."

James clicked his tongue and looked down at her with a grin. "Right," he said, "so it'll be even easier for you to free yourself."

She tried to move her arms, but he held her strongly. "Last time I free myself from you," she reminded him, "you ran to your mum, crying."

James smiled. "Yeah," he chuckled, "well I swear that I won't run to her, now." He lowered his head. "Whatever you'll do," he whispered near her ear.

Rose sighed, but smiled. "You won't run to her because she's not here," she giggled, "but what about grandma?"

"I swear that I won't run to her as well," he replied, grinning.

"And what about--"

"Whatever you'll do, it won't get out of this room," he said, rolling his eyes but looking amused nonetheless, "you happy?"

She grinned. "You're famous for your lies, James Potter Junior," she said.

"Yes, I am," he replied, accommodating better on the bed, where his knees were starting to hurt him, "but I lie only to get what I want." He shrugged slightly as if to excuse himself.

Rose snorted, finding it a quite terrible excuse. "You're the most awful boy I've ever had the misfortune to meet, James Potter," she said a bit too cheerfully.

"Thank you, Rose Weasley," he replied, "and now, I'll start my torture with some merciless tickling."

"James, no," she cried, "you know that I'm ticklish!"

"I know that perfectly well, thank you," he replied, grinning playfully. He pushed her hands together and took her tiny wrists in just one hand while with the other he started to tickle her stomach and sides.

"No! James, no!" she screamed, laughing and thrashing at the same time. "James!"

He moved his hand back to her wrists and divided them once again, he looked down at her with a big grin as she panted and glared at him.

"James!" she thundered. "Let me go."

He pretended to think about her request, then he smiled. "Nah," he said simply.

"Fight as a man," she challenged him, trying hardly to be disgusted and not to grin as well.

"Nah," he repeated.

"James!" she screamed one last time, but he simply laughed at her and that was enough for Rose Weasley. She thought that something that went well the once couldn't go bad the second time, so she raised her head as much as she could while James lowered on her to tell her something else and before he could open his mouth she had pressed her lips against his.

This time wasn't like the first one. They weren't much more experienced with kisses, but they weren't children anymore, and Rose's lips lingered a bit too longer on his mouth for a kiss that should have simply set her free from his hands, her eyes closing while his were wide open.

She fell back on the bed and panted, a grin and a half-laughter springing from her lips as she looked at him. James was still there in the same position as he was before the kiss has started, his hands still clenched around her wrists, his legs still around her waist, his head still some inches from hers. If he wouldn't have breathed Rose would have thought that he had been hit by a full Body-Bind Curse.

He finally blinked as his eyes caressed his cousin's face, tracing every wrinkle of her smile and registering the sensations that her kiss had given to him. And then what happened made everything fall around them.

Now it was James' time to lower his head on hers, his lips crashing against hers as she...

* * *

Author's Note: Muhahaha, I feel cruel today.. Oh, there's still a long piece to go with this, and the end of this scene that will definitely bring the rating of this story up to R, I've already written it.. But as I said.. I feel cruel today.. Anyway, I'm stuck to this story, so don't worry, I'll update soon.. And now review..


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: So, I got rid of that 'Flame plz!' in the summary and put a 'Quite smutty..', instead. Not because I've changed my mind (well, maybe a little..), but because I ran out of spaces in that summary and I needed to warn you all. Anyway, I think that I've spent too much time writing my NC-17 stories for Restricted Section, and now my mind is going in just one way.. So, the rating of this story goes up to R or M or Professors or whatever.. U-oh, they are so confusing! Why they don't use the same simbols on the net? Complain for the TMI, I did it myself when I went through this story.

Hmm.. someone pointed out that JamesII and Rose's love looks like JamesI and LilyI.. Well, I don't know.. I can't stand that pairing (LilyJames), and I don't really think that these two are like them. So well, I think that **Rose** loves James with all her mind and heart and body, she always forgives him everything he does and is ready to please him whatever he wants, she can be quite strong and stubborn, but she always melts when she's dealing with her cousin. She's not stupid, she's just in love. On the other hand, **James** is incredibly selfish and stubborn, I think he loves her very very much, but he's divided between this forbidden love and the fear that someone might know about them. He's also very possessive, and he cares for her more than he can ever imagine.. I think he'll have to lose her to know how much he loves her.

* * *

**Flashes 2**

Rose raised her eyes from her homework when someone knocked at her door. "Come in," she said her voice hoarse because she had not used in the last few hours.

The door opened and a red head appeared. "Don't tell me that you're still studying," sighed James as he walked in her bedroom, closed the door and went sitting on her bed without waiting for her to invite him to sit down, "you started right after lunch and it's almost dinner time."

Rose turned her chair as to face him, she passed a hand in her hair, tossing them away from her eyes and smiled. "Well, this third year was quite hectic for me," she replied quietly, "and I've so many new things to keep up with."

"Really?" asked James, eyeing her books.

She nodded. "So many new and exciting subjects," she said, "for example this Ancient Runes is incredible, and I can already read quite a lot of stories from the book that mum gave to me." She grabbed a red book with golden decorations and a title in runes on it.

"Yeah, interesting," said James, sounding anything but interested.

Rose rolled her eyes, but smiled. "It's _The Tales of Beedle the Bard,"_ she informed him.

James looked at her as if she was crazy. "And you're making all this effort to read a book in runes while I'm sure that Grandma Molly has one in English right downstairs in the living room?" he asked her.

"It's just to make some exercise with runes, James," she said, taking the book back from his hands. She put it away and turned to him. "What did you want, by the way?" she asked, scratching her neck, one of the straps of her yellow sundress falling down her shoulder. She pulled it up and flushed softly.

James shrugged slightly. "I was just checking on you, since you seem to disappear up here every morning and every afternoon," he said, gesturing around.

"I don't disappear," she replied amused, "I just have homework to do." She glanced at him. "Like you should do."

James shook his head softly. "I really can't be bothered with my homework now," he cracked, "I'm on holiday."

"A reason to dedicate more time to your homework and to not forget things," she said.

James nodded, pretending to be impressed. "You know what, Rose?" he said. "You convinced me."

Rose frowned slightly. "Really?" she asked. "It was quite easy."

"Yes, blimey, Rose, I'll start my homework right tomorrow," he said, slapping his knee theatrically.

"Why I don't believe you?" she questioned, sighing.

"No, I swear." He raised his right hand and placed it on his chest. "Word of wizard." He smiled mischievously and added, "I'll start my homework if you come out for a walk with me right now."

"What?" She was dazed. "And leaving my homework behind?" She turned her chair and took a quill in her hand. "Forget it, James Potter."

"I forgot to tell you that I won't accept a no," he said, standing up and grabbing her arm in his hand. "Come on," he invited her, pulling her towards him.

"No, James, no!" she complained, as she was pulled on her feet against her will. She dug her heels in the carpet and tried to resist him, pulling on the other part. "I need to study."

"You need some fresh air," he grunted, pulling more forcefully. "You can't stay here for the whole summer."

"Yes, I can and—hey!" she complained as James suddenly let her go and she stepped back, falling on her back on her bed. She pushed with her elbows, to get up, but James was on her before she could actually move. He pinned her wrists at the sides of her head, and tightened his thighs around her waist to keep her in place.

"James!" she cried, glaring at him. "Let me go right now." She snorted. "We aren't five years old anymore."

James clicked his tongue and looked down at her with a grin. "Right," he said, "so it'll be even easier for you to free yourself."

She tried to move her arms, but he held her strongly. "Last time I free myself from you," she reminded him, "you ran to your mum, crying."

James smiled. "Yeah," he chuckled, "well I swear that I won't run to her, now." He lowered his head. "Whatever you'll do," he whispered near her ear.

Rose sighed, but smiled. "You won't run to her because she's not here," she giggled, "but what about grandma?"

"I swear that I won't run to her as well," he replied, grinning.

"And what about--"

"Whatever you'll do, it won't get out of this room," he said, rolling his eyes but looking amused nonetheless, "you happy?"

She grinned. "You're famous for your lies, James Potter Junior," she said.

"Yes, I am," he replied, accommodating better on the bed, where his knees were starting to hurt him, "but I lie only to get what I want." He shrugged slightly as if to excuse himself.

Rose snorted, finding it a quite terrible excuse. "You're the most awful boy I've ever had the misfortune to meet, James Potter," she said a bit too cheerfully.

"Thank you, Rose Weasley," he replied, "and now, I'll start my torture with some merciless tickling."

"James, no," she cried, "you know that I'm ticklish!"

"I know that perfectly well, thank you," he replied, grinning playfully. He pushed her hands together and took her tiny wrists in just one hand while with the other he started to tickle her stomach and sides.

"No! James, no!" she screamed, laughing and thrashing at the same time. "James!"

He moved his hand back to her wrists and divided them once again, he looked down at her with a big grin as she panted and glared at him.

"James!" she thundered. "Let me go."

He pretended to think about her request, then he smiled. "Nah," he said simply.

"Fight as a man," she challenged him, trying hardly to be disgusted and not to grin as well.

"Nah," he repeated.

"James!" she screamed one last time, but he simply laughed at her and that was enough for Rose Weasley. She thought that something that went well the once couldn't go bad the second time, so she raised her head as much as she could while James lowered on her to tell her something else and before he could open his mouth she had pressed her lips against his.

This time wasn't like the first one. They weren't much more experienced with kisses, but they weren't children anymore, and Rose's lips lingered a bit too longer on his mouth for a kiss that should have simply set her free from his hands, her eyes closing while his were wide open.

She fell back on the bed and panted, a grin and a half-laughter springing from her lips as she looked at him. James was still there in the same position as he was before the kiss has started, his hands still clenched around her wrists, his legs still around her waist, his head still some inches from hers. If he wouldn't have breathed Rose would have thought that he had been hit by a full Body-Bind Curse.

He finally blinked as his eyes caressed his cousin's face, tracing every wrinkle of her smile and registering the sensations that her kiss had given to him. And then what happened made everything fall around them.

Now it was James' time to lower his head on hers, his lips crashing against hers as she set her jaw for the surprise, his back arching as his hands pushed her wrists deep into the bed, his eyes closing to better flavour the taste of that forbidden kiss.

Rose felt a shiver run down her spine, she closed her eyes as well, and responded the kiss that they shouldn't have shared. James' hands slid up on hers and their fingers entangled, he brought her hands up above her head and made one of his legs slide on her, so that his belly was pressing slightly against hers. She arched her back a little to deepen the kiss, and James fulfilled her desire by opening his mouth and licking her lips with his tongue.

She moaned and welcomed him in her, their tongues fighting like they'd seen Teddy and Victoire doing so many times, their cheeks flushed and their heartbeats increased. She freed one hand from him and passed it in his hair, gently gripping his rebel locks. As she did so James broke the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers and panted, his eyes half-closed with lust and shame.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in a croaky voice, "I'm sorry, Rose, I didn't--"

Rose shushed him, putting a finger on his lips. She looked up at him with bright chocolaty eyes, wide for lust, desire and fear. "I'm not, James," she whispered heartily. She pressed her lips against him once more and this time nothing interrupted their kiss as it deepened and set their bodies on fire.

He explored her mouth until he knew it by heart, and once he hadn't anything else to discover there he left her lips and started to trail soft kisses down her cheek and jaw, biting playfully at her freckled skin as he did so. She circled his neck with her hands and threw her head back, breathing quickly while her cousin's hands travelled down her sides and he kissed his way towards her collarbone.

James' hand came back on her shoulder, he hooked the strap of her sundress in his index finger and brought it down as he looked into her eyes. She bit her bottom lip and he moved his lips on her shoulder, kissing and sucking her there, where her skin was more sensitive.

He pressed against her side and she felt his hardness on her hip, one of his legs went up and he circled her waist. She pulled at his hair while he sucked on her shoulder, and pushed her chest up to make him get deeper in her flesh.

James' hand travelled softly from her arm to her breast and as he slipped his hand under the yellow material she sucked in her breath, her eyes widening. "James," she murmured huskily, "please."

Please what? James didn't know what she was talking about, but he knew what to do nonetheless. So he stood up from her and pulled up her dress around her waist, he hooked the knickers with his fingers and brought them down, making her look at him in surprise.

He deliberately avoided her eyes as he stripped of his jeans and positioned himself at her entrance, pulling into her slowly and caringly, while her small hands clenched at the sheets and she bit her lips to hold back a cry.

She was tight and warm and wet and inviting, and James couldn't restrain himself as he pushed against her hymen and took away her virginity while she took his. She brought a hand to her mouth and cried against it for the pain, her sight blurring with tears and soreness.

James stopped in Rose. He looked down at her little body, she was shaking slightly, her white face screwed up for the pain, her legs loosely leaning against his hips as he grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him. "Rose, I'm sorry, Rose, are you--"

She shook her head slightly. "Don't stop, James," she whined, "it's worst."

James looked at her as if, for a moment, he couldn't understand what she was saying. Then he nodded and started to push in and pull out of her, slowly at first while she whined and let out hushed cries, then increasing the peace until her soft moans weren't caused anymore by the pain, but by the fire that was building inside of her.

James grunted, he threw his head back and shut his eyes while he gritted his teeth, and then his insides where shaken by a blissful earthquake and suddenly he spilled his semen in her tummy. He pushed another couple of times inside of her, his pace slowing down as he did so, and then he collapsed on top of her. He panted hardly, blood pulsing in his temples as he lay there over her burning body.

"I'm sorry," he panted against her neck. "I couldn't hold back, I--"

Rose slid under him and kissed him to silence. "It doesn't matter," she breathed against his lips, "really, I don't care." Maybe next time she would have climaxed as well.

James pushed on the bed and rolled over her, laying on his back next to her. He looked at the ceiling and shivered, the truth sinking in his brain. He had just taken his cousin on her bed, on the bed that was his mother's once, in her mother's childhood bedroom. He hoped that they weren't the first ones to inaugurate that bed, but as he imagined his parents there he felt a wave of sickness invading him and he shook his head forcefully trying to send that thought away.

"Was I your first?" she asked shyly after a moment of silence.

James closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip. "Yes," he murmured. "Was I?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes." She sneaked her hand towards his and grabbed his, their fingers enlacing again. They lay there, their chests raising at the same time as they looked at the ceiling, their body too limp to move.

Then James let her hand go and stood up, he pulled his pants and jeans up and fastened them on his waist. He looked down at her as she pushed on her elbows and glanced at him, her knickers hanging from one of her ankles, her dress reaching her hips, her strap down on her arm.

"Where are you going?" she asked him, her cheeks still flushed.

He shrugged slightly. "Downstairs, maybe grandma needs one of us to get the dinner ready," he answered simply, as if they'd been up there chatting for all the time. "See you later, Rose," he added. He opened the door and peered outside, when he was sure that none was arriving he exited and closed the door at his back again, then he walked down the stairs, and Rose heard him talking to her grandma and joking about her apron. And Rose knew that everything had fallen around them.

* * *

Lily was ill that summer. She got vanishing sickness, which was highly contagious, and had to get away from the Burrow. It wasn't anything too serious and was actually quite common among the children of her age, but nevertheless she had to spend a week at St. Mungo's and fully recover before going back to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. And even if Rose liked to have the room she shared with her all by herself for a while, she missed her a lot and wrote her daily, since James, Albus and Hugo didn't waste their time to 'write stupid letters to someone who was going to be away only for a week'.

Lily's absence was one of the reasons that persuaded James not to leave Rose all alone during that long nights at the Burrow, not that he needed to be convinced anyway. The first day after their rendezvous, and even the second one, the fourteen-year-old boy simply ignored his cousin, or showed her his most icily appearance. They talked, naturally, but as soon as Rose got a bit too closer to him than she should have done, James found a way to move away from the little Weasley and start to do something else. Rose always frowned at him, but when she looked at Albus he simply shrugged, and she was happy that he didn't have a clue on what had gone on between the two of them.

But after two days of acting as if she wasn't even there, James couldn't really pretend anymore, and so two nights later, he was sneaking out of his room and going upstairs into the bedroom that Rose didn't have to share with Lily until she got back from St. Mungo's. He didn't even knock, too scared that his grandmother could hear something, he simply pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing the door at his back and locking it.

James walked up to her bed. Rose was laying there, asleep, her thin body wrapped in her lacy, transparent nightdress, which was vaguely rolled up around her thighs and had a dozen of stupid buttons on her chest, the sheets were piled at the bottom of the bed and her cascade of bloody curls was spread on the pillow. He gulped and bit his bottom lip, restraining his hand to run freely through her hair.

He sat next to her on the bed, bent over her and pressed his palm over her mouth. She opened her eyes at once, jumping and trying to understand what was happening. Then James brought a finger to his lips and gestured her to be quiet. She looked at him without understanding and felt his hand sliding away from her lips, and before he had completely set her free his lips were already on hers, biting and sucking his way in her mouth.

He slid his arm behind her back and pulled her towards him, her breasts crashing against his chest, her curls tickling his neck and her own hands sliding up behind his neck, deepening the kiss that seemed already passionate enough to make Teddy and Victoire pale.

He freed her mouth and gave her some more kisses on her lips, cheeks and nose, his hands working on the tiny buttons of her nightgown. "Had to see you…" he panted between kisses, "…had to have you one last time… have to touch you and kiss you…" He kissed her jaw as he spoke and Rose moaned slightly when he slid the last button out of the hole and his hands wandered under her nightgown, touching and pinching gently at her breasts, her nipples hardening suddenly.

Rose gripped her neck forcefully, her nails scratching at his skin as she did so. She bent her knees and pressed herself more closely to James, their skins sliding one against the other and going on fire. He moved his hands from her breasts to her shoulders and made her upper part of her nightgown slide down her back and fell in her lap.

James hugged her, his hands sliding down her back to her bottom, he slipped his hands under her knickers and cupped her cheeks. He kissed her and she moaned in his mouth. He made his hands find their way back to her back and he lay her down on the bed, he moved over her, trailing kissing down her face, jaw, neck, collarbone, breasts and down, down to her tummy and navel. She brought her hands to his cheeks and made him raise his head as his lips reached the hem of her knickers.

"James," she whispered worried, her eyes wide.

James looked at her for a moment, but he understood, and instead of pushing his face between her legs, he hooked his fingers on her knickers and brought them down. She let out a strangled cry of surprise as the warm air of the night brushed her folds, already glistering with her excitement. He looked at her and bit his bottom lip, then he brought his pyjamas down and positioned for the second time in two days at her entrance, keeping eye contact as he pushed slowly into her.

She was as tight as two days before, but he didn't hurt her as much as the first time. She spread her legs, offering him a better angle for his penetration, and he slid inside of her much more deeper than he had the first time, this time without encountering anything on his path. She started to moan and pant, her small breasts bouncing up and down as he pushed back and forward in her.

James moaned as well, his face glistering with sweat and his mouth slightly open to let him take quick gulps of air, he gripped her legs and put them around his waist. He bent over her and passed a hand behind her back, pulling her from the bed and towards him once again. He seemed to be wanting to stay as close to her as possible, as if every single inch of his skin was aching to touch her.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and cried out as a climax finally hit her, spreading a blissful hotness from her core up to every part of her body. Her walls clenched around James and he held his breath as he spilled inside of her.

He collapsed back on the bed, crashing Rose under him and breathing hard against her skin. He slowly pulled out of her and slid on her body, leaning his head against her belly as they both caught their breaths. Rose's hands went to his head and she caressed his hair like a mother would do to a son.

They didn't speak for what seemed ages, their closeness was the only thing that they needed to calm down their breaths and cool off. Then, suddenly, she spoke, her voice low and clear made James think that it was the best sound he had ever listened to.

"What did you mean?" she asked quietly.

"When?" he replied softly against her tummy.

"Before," she murmured, caressing his hair, "when you said that you had to have me one last time." She held her breath. "Is this our last time?" The question sounded odd even to her since that 'last time' was only their second one.

James arched his back slightly, curling like a cat over her. "I don't know," he replied.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

James stood up from her and pulled his pyjamas up. "I better go before Albus or Hugo wake up," he whispered, looking everywhere but at her.

Rose's eyes narrowed as he turned. "Oh no, James," she said, jumping down from her bed and reaching him with a few steps. He turned to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "You won't do that again," she thundered, her hands on her naked hips.

"I won't do what?" he asked, pretending to ignore what she was talking about.

Rose blushed, but in the semi-darkness of the room James didn't notice it. "Come here in my room when you feel like it, shag me and then ignore me for the rest of the time," she said quickly, her face dark.

James lowered his eyes. "I just didn't want to let anybody notice…" he murmured, biting his bottom lip.

"Notice what?" she asked, her turn to play pretend.

James looked at her with wild eyes. "Notice this," he said, gesturing towards the room and then towards her. "Notice you and me," he added in a whisper.

"They'll notice that there's something strange if you start ignoring me and acting like I'm not there for all the time," she sighed, "they'll start asking us things."

James rolled his eyes, then, unexpectedly, his lips curled in a soft grin. "And who tells you," he murmured slowly, "that I don't ignore you just because you're my annoying little cousin?"

"James Potter," she said, trying hard to keep her face serious, "I'm not joking."

"Me too, Rose," he replied, he took a step towards her and placed his hands on her hips. "My little, annoying, Know-It-All, bookworm--"

"I got the idea, thanks," said Rose, cocking an eyebrow.

"Did you?" he asked, nearing his head to her ear. "I've still not said lovely, sexy, wild…" His words lost in his nibbling at her ear and neck. When he straightened his back, Rose was looking expectantly at him. "And sure like hell," he murmured, "this won't be our last time." He kissed her roughly and turned on his heels.

Rose heard the lock caught and, before she could even bid him goodnight, James was gone, his soft steps fading away on the stairs.

* * *

That summer flew away, like every summer they spent at the Burrow; that summer was hot, like every summer they spent at the Burrow; but that summer was also full of surprises, secret encounters, kisses and discovering of their bodies, like no other summer they spent at the Burrow.

Lily came back from St. Mungo's with all the intentions of making up for the time she missed with her cousin, so she spent every moment of the day with Rose, keeping her up for nightly talks for hours, until Rose shushed her and Lily laughed and they would eventually fall asleep.

And when Rose managed to escape an annoying Lily, she had to deal with another infatuated cousin. He would took her hand and brought her in a bathroom or near the pond or in Uncle Percy's old room, and she would laugh when his hands tickled her, and she would bit her bottom lip when he kissed her belly, and she would moan when he was buried in her. After that talk in Rose's room, in front of the others, their lives went on in the same quiet and relaxed way as it has always been, they talked, laughed, argued, as if nothing had happened; or at least until James would wash a plate and passed it to Rose to dry it, and their fingers touched, and Rose would look at him with that look that would make James go numb, and then Albus would walk into the kitchen and the plate would escape Rose's hands and break on the floor, and they would be snapped out of their fantasies.

But summer at the Burrow had never been long, and that one finished too soon for James, and so before he could even understand what was happening he was sitting on the Hogwarts Express and travelling towards Hogwarts. But it wasn't going to be a school to keep him away from Rose, and so every empty classroom or dark corner was good enough to give vent to his feelings.

They sat together in the library, studying and reading books; they dozed off in the common room, near the fireplace on the armchairs that once where their parents'; they laughed and talked to their cousins; they had quarrels and they sneaked up the Astronomy Tower to stay together.

* * *

"I like the way your hair smell," murmured James against Rose's neck.

Rose tilted her head a bit, trying to look at her homework from above his head. "It's the shampoo your mum gave me for my birthday," she answered, smiling as his nose brushed against her skin.

"Good taste my mum has," he replied, placing his hand on her knee.

"James," she whispered, looking around herself, "if Madam Pince finds us here like this…"

"She'll get a heart attack," he murmured, chuckling, he placed a soft kiss under her ear and she shivered.

"I'm serious," she said, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back.

James looked at her. "I'm too smart to let her catch us in this situation," he said, smiling, "trust me."

"Oh, I know," she said bitterly, "you don't even want to let anybody see us when we're holding hands." She darkened. "And we are never holding hands."

James backed a little. "We can't be seen, Rose," he said, "we are first cousins, that would upset someone."

"Yeah? For example?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uncle Ron," he replied simply, and that shut her mouth. He took away the hand from her leg and pushed his legs under the table, sitting up straight like a student should have done in the library, his book untouched in front of him.

Rose bit her quill thoughtfully, her legs crossing softly while she looked absent-mindedly in front of her, her chin leaning gracefully on her hand. She swing her leg softly and started to whisper, "You know that I was reading Merlin's biography the other day? Did you know that Morgan--"

"Yeah, Rose, it'll be surely very interesting," he cut her off, pushing his chair back and standing up, "and I would love to stay here with you all the time, but _unfortunately_ I have Quidditch training in less than ten minutes."

Rose raised her eyes on him as he stood up. "James!" she called him, Quidditch was his favourite excuse when he didn't want to hear her 'blah blah about things that he already had to listen to in class'; but James didn't turn even turn, he simply raised his hand and waved her a goodbye from above his shoulder and then disappeared out of the door with great haste.

Rose sighed and shook her head, but she didn't have time to think at him, because someone else stepped in front of her, standing between her books and the light that came from the lamp on the wall.

"Hey!" she said, raising her eyes. She darkened at once when she saw the boy who was standing before her, golden locks standing before his blue eyes, a smirk over his face. "Wood," she said coldly.

"Weasley," he replied, smirking. "Can I sit here?" he asked, and without waiting for her answer he sat across from her.

"What are you doing in the library, Wood?" she asked. "I don't think you can read, can you?" She smiled mischievously and turned up her nose.

Jack Wood laughed a bit too loudly and Madam Pince cast him a glare. "Yes, actually, I can read, Weasley," he replied amused, "but I'm not here for reading."

"How strange," she replied sharply, "since we've three essays for tomorrow."

"Really?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "I didn't remember." He shrugged slightly. "I'll copy from you," he added, leaning against the back of the chair and swinging slowly.

"Of course not," she replied disgusted. Then something struck her brain and she looked at him with her mouth slightly open. "Shouldn't you be at your Quidditch trainings?" she asked.

Wood frowned. "No, Quidditch trainings are tomorrow," he replied simply. "Why?"

Rose bit her bottom lip and shook her head dismissively.

Wood let out a chuckle and moved forward, his head coming closer to a horrified Rose. "You won't get rid of me so easily," he whispered.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I tried," she confessed.

Wood sighed slightly. "Come on, Weasley," he muttered, "why wouldn't you go out with me? I'm handsome."

Rose snorted. "And humble I would add," she said.

"Yeah, well, we have to face the truth," he said, passing a hand through his hair, "there are thousands of girls that would pay to go out with me."

"Then go out with them," she suggested simply.

He shook his head. "I want to go out with you."

"I'm not interested."

"That was clear."

"Then give up."

"I'm not the kind of boy that gives up," he said horrified.

"I've noticed that," she sighed.

"But you can give up."

"Wood, I'm not exactly…" She looked at him and weighted the possibility of using the word 'available', but thought against it. James would have killed her if she said something like that to the most curious boy of the school. "…interested in you," she finished.

"Don't worry," he said, grinning, "you will."

She looked at him with her eyebrows raised. "Wow, modesty isn't exactly one of your gifts, is it?"

"No, I would say that it's not," he replied calmly.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling a little. After all, she liked to be courted by someone different from her cousin, even if in her head she couldn't picture her with anybody but James.

"So, are you coming to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?" he asked.

She stood up and gathered her books, laughing. "No," she said, walking away.

Jack Wood sighed, she was a hard one to get, but nothing stood between him and his certainty that he would have gone out with her sooner or later.

* * *

"Rose, come on," said Albus, pulling Rose's arm, "Scorpius is waiting for us."

James raised his eyes from his book and looked from his brother to his cousin, while Rose smiled sheepishly. The common room around them was filled with fifth years who were studying hard for their O.W.L.s, and James was one of them, having done almost nothing during the whole year, except for Quidditch trainings and secret love encounters.

"Scorpius Malfoy?" he asked icily. Naturally Albus was talking about Scorpius Malfoy, he knew it, there was nobody in the whole school that had such a name, but nonetheless he felt the urge of being reassured.

"Of course, James," said Albus, looking at him challengingly. He knew that James didn't like Scorpius, but he was his friend and if James wanted to stand between them he was going to regret it.

James looked back at him and narrowed his eyes. "And where are you going?" he asked.

"None of your business." Albus felt rebellious.

Rose elbowed him in his ribs and glared at Albus. "To the Lake," she said simply.

James' eyes darted to her. "Why?"

"To fish," said Albus, annoyed, "honestly, James! To have a swim, it's damn hot in these days."

"And you're going as well?" he asked Rose, his face darkening.

"Of course she is," replied Albus for her. Rose flushed slightly and looked away. "Can't she?"

James bit his bottom lip nervously. Can't she? No, she can't! The idea of her in her swimsuit in front of Scorpius Malfoy made him go mad, but who was he to stop her? He couldn't have tied her up to her bed, even if he would have liked that. He smirked at the very thought, he had found what to do with her next time they meet.

"Well," said Albus, looking at his brother with a frown, "we are going." And before James could say anything else, they were walking through the portrait hole and disappearing from his view.

"I can't stand him," muttered Albus, walking briskly through the corridors.

"James?" asked Rose, trying to keep up with his hasty pace.

"Yeah, didn't you hear his tone?" he asked. "It was almost like he was annoyed by the fact that you were coming with us." He looked at her and shook his head. "You should tell him something," he snapped.

Rose looked at him, taken aback. "What?" she asked, "what should I tell him?"

"What you should tell who?" asked Scorpius as they approached him near the Great Hall.

"My brother," answered Albus, pushing the main door open and walking outside in the hot sun. "He was complaining again about us going out with you and Rose coming with us." He seemed to think and added, "And I think he was complaining about the whole world."

Scorpius looked at Rose, who seemed deep in thought, and furrowed his brow. He moved away his wild, silvery locks from his greyish eyes, and studied her face. "Why didn't your cousin want to let you come with us?" he asked her, walking by her side.

Rose kept her eyes on the ground, the fresh grass brushing gently against her ankles. "She's protective," she replied, smiling.

"Overprotective, I would say," muttered Scorpius. "Hope you told him something."

Rose looked up at him and her lips parted in surprise to see such a determinate expression. "For example?" she asked.

"For example that you are no more a child and that you can take care of yourself," he said firmly. He looked away from her. "And if not, that Albus and I are here to protect you."

Rose smiled, her cheeks slightly on fire as Scorpius made her feel protected and loved. "No, but I'll surely tell him next time." She knew she wouldn't have done that.

"Okay," said Albus, snapping them out of their conversation as they approached the Lake. "Girls." He pointed to a bush. "And boys." He pointed to another one.

Rose laughed. "I don't need a bush, Albus," she said. She brought her hands to her shirt and fumbled quickly at the buttons, then she unfastened her skirt and made it fall down her hips, discovering a blue swimsuit under it. "The last one is a Pygmy Puff," she said, kicking off her shoes and running towards the Lake.

Albus and Scorpius looked at her with their mouths wide open. Then they started to strip from their school robes, and a moment later they were running behind her and reaching the little cliff from where they used to jump into the dark water, crying and laughing joyously.

Scorpius sprinted and reached her the moment she was jumping down, he passed an arm around her waist and jumped with her, his screams of joy and trepidation joined with hers and with Albus' while the raven haired boy jumped down next to them.

Their bodies splashed into the water with loud crashes and they sank into the fresh water of some feet. When they opened their eyes, they always opened their eyes underwater, they found themselves floating one next to the other. Their feathery-light bodies moving with the thin movements of the water.

Rose pushed with her feet and she turned gracefully upside down, then she opened her mouth, grinning, and some bubbles escaped her lips. Scorpius looked at Albus from above Rose's shoulder and nodded towards Rose; Albus nodded back, smiling mischievously, and before Rose could even sense what was going on, they had their white hands on her waist and belly and arms, tickling her and keeping her from swimming away.

She laughed a bubbling laugh, and tried to get away from them, but while Scorpius touched her there were he knew she was most ticklish, Albus held her wrists tightly in her hands. She tried to kick them, but they just had to keep their legs up, without much effort in the water, and she never reached them. She shut her eyes while air started to leave her lungs, and she opened her mouth to scream silently.

And then everything stopped, Scorpius took away his hands from her and Albus was torn from her arms almost painfully. She opened her eyes, and was just in time to see Albus fighting with a giant tentacle around his stomach, which brought him easily up towards the surface, then she moved her feet and swam towards the air, taking a long gulp of oxygen as her head exited from the water. Scorpius emerged next to her, taking a deep breath as well, and Rose glared at him.

"I didn't have any more air," she snapped, moving her legs and arms to stay on the surface.

Scorpius laughed. "We were just joking, Rose," he said, splashing her with some water.

She glared at him and splashed him back. He cried and moved his hands back to move some more water, but he stopped when they heard a scream, they turned towards the middle of the Lake and stared as Albus passed before their eyes, his white body wrapped in a giant, slimy tentacle while the Giant Squid pushed him forward, half in the water and half out of it. "Rose! Scorpius!" he screamed, laughing. "You've to try this, it's great!"

Rose laughed and Scorpius jumped at the chance and splashed her with some more water.

"Scorpius!" she yelled, splashing him back, and that started a water fight that ended up only when Scorpius dived into the water again and pulled her down with her.

She tried to push him away from her, laughing and moving her legs furiously, but Scorpius was a boy that towered over her of quite a lot of inches and he was a Quidditch player well trained and strong after all. He took her hands in his and stopped her movements, looking into her eyes. She looked back to him and smiled, some more bubbles escape her mouth.

Her hair was floating around her face and her chocolaty eyes were shining, she was too attractive and looked almost like one of those mermaids that lured the sailors into the depths of the oceans. And Scorpius felt himself drag towards her just like one of those sailors. He stretched his head forward with a quick movement and his lips crashed on hers, his pointed nose brushing her cheek softly, while that kiss took away all the air she had left in her lungs. She moved her head back and looked at him, her eyes wide under the water. She pushed with her feet and swam up.

She turned to look at him as she heard the splashing of his head exiting the water next to her. She moved her legs and arms quickly as if she was trying to get away from him and not let him come closer to her at the same time.

He stretched a hand forward and tried to reach her, at least to calm her down. "Rose--"

"Scorpius," she cut him off frantically, "I can't--"

"Why not?" he asked, swimming towards her.

"Don't you understand?" she asked back. "I'm in love with someone else." She turned her head away and swam as fast as she could, reaching for the shore and disappearing quickly between the trees, and just at that moment Albus swam lazily towards Scorpius.

"You've to try that thing out," he said cheerfully, looking around. "Hey, where's my cousin?" he asked.

Scorpius shook his head. "Back to the castle, I think," he muttered, darkly.

"Why?" he asked, frowning.

Scorpius didn't answer, he shook his head another time and swam towards the shore, he reached the smooth rocks and collapsed there, cursing under his breath. If Rose had even lied to stay away from him, there were very few possibilities that she could even like him as much he liked her. _Because in love with someone, seriously_, he thought bitterly, _she can't have a boyfriend. We would know…_

* * *

Rose moaned slightly as James tightened his belt around her wrists and to the bedpost. The Burrow was, for the first time in history, they believed, empty. Teddy and Victoire were in France, Mrs Weasley was in Diagon Alley with Lily and Hugo, Albus was at his parents' home, Mr Weasley was at the Ministry, and Rose and James were in Rose's bedroom, completely naked and half tied up.

Rose frowned slightly as she tried to move her hands, they were well tied and she could barely move them against the sharp leather strip. "James…" she started unsurely...

* * *

Author's Note: Yeah, I'm sick. Too many smutty scenes, right? Well, this chapter is left unfinished as well, but I'm pretty sure that the next one will be the last about those flashes.. I just wanted to give you an idea about them before the pregnancy. Oh, and by the way.. I think that **Scorpius** is very much in love with her, but he's a gentleman and would never touch her, not even with a flower.. **Jack Wood** (which, if you haven't noticed it.. is son to Oliver Wood) is big-headed and to me he looks quite a lot like JamesI, anyway, I don't he will ever be able to win her heart, not in a million years, no.. -- wow.. this sounded very much like a self-review.. Am I reviewing my stuff? 0.o


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Last sneak peek at their past, and hopefully last time I write smut in this fic. Oh! I wish I could stop writing smut, but I actually can't and it's making me sick, I wonder how some people can stand to write or read it all the time.. After a while I'm just sick. Anyway, I don't have much to say about this, except that I already know what to write next.. I'm sooo excited! Can't wait to put my ideas on paper and set my head free from them! Yeah, well.. enjoy the chapter! -- Btw, just got back from 'The Golden Compass', nicely done, but the book's ten times better.

* * *

**Flashes 3**

Rose moaned slightly as James tightened his belt around her wrists and to the bedpost. The Burrow was, for the first time in history, they believed, empty. Teddy and Victoire were in France, Mrs Weasley was in Diagon Alley with Lily and Hugo, Albus was at his parents' home, Mr Weasley was at the Ministry, and Rose and James were in Rose's bedroom, completely naked and half tied up.

Rose frowned slightly as she tried to move her hands, they were well tied and she could barely move them against the sharp leather strip. "James…" she started unsurely.

James looked down at her from the bedpost where he was securing her. "It's all right, Rose," he said quickly.

"I don't know," she replied, "it kind of hurt."

James circled the bed and sat next to her, looking in her eyes. "I would never hurt you," he murmured, "if it is too painful, I'll free you."

She looked back at him and bit her bottom lip. Did it hurt? Yes, it did. Could she stand it? If she didn't think about it. It wasn't the first time that James experimented something new, and last time he did she couldn't sit properly for a couple of days, and it was fairly worst than that moment.

"It's okay," she replied softly.

He smiled and bent over her, kissing her ribs. "I'll keep you busy thinking at something else," he breathed against her skin.

She finally let out a giggle and arched her back forward as if to invite him to keep going, but James didn't really need her to tempt him. His mouth slid softly over her cleavage, his lips brushing her skin and leaving a wet trail over it.

"I'm already thinking at something else," she moaned out.

James smiled against her navel and he kissed it gently, then he went down and down following the soft path of minuscule hair to the nest of red curls between her legs. Rose sucked in her breath, she understood why he tied her up. He had just said that he had come up with that idea the day she went swimming with Albus and Scorpius, but now she knew that he had actually tied her up just to do to her what he had been looking forward to do for all that time; what she'd never allowed him to do.

Her legs shifted nervously when she felt his hot breath against her secret, and she tried to close them, her hands gripping the belt that kept her tying to the bedposts. She didn't want him to sneak anything different from his hand or penis down there, she thought it was disgusting that someone would place his mouth over something so private like that, and she was even more afraid that once James had gotten his face in there, he wanted her to return the favour, and she really wasn't too keen to have him in her mouth.

"James," she warned him, her voice thick with fear, "you know that I don't like that…"

James smiled, his eyes fixed over her little, precious secret. "It's because you've not yet tried this out, Rose," he murmured huskily.

She tried to shut her legs, but James kept them firmly in place, spreading them for him. He took a deep breath, then he stuck out his tongue and brushed it over her crack, dipping its top into her juices and then withdrawing it immediately. He tasted her in his mouth and looked delightful.

Rose's breath started to increase as she gripped the belt more forcefully and pulled at it, her wrists becoming red under the material. Her small stomach moved quickly up and down, and her legs pushed against the hands that were keeping them apart. "James," she whined without a real motivation.

"It's all right," he replied slowly, "you'll like it." He heard her let out a soft scream when he attacked her again, this time he brought his head against her and started to lick her in earnest from her rear hole to her clitoris. He lingered over her clit and took it in his mouth, massaging it with his teeth and lips.

She let out a moan, her knees bending near her cousin's face. He was right after all, that wasn't so bad, she could actually like it, if she didn't think at his mouth.

He moved his hands from her thighs to her vagina and opened her as much as possible, he inserted his face into her and lapped deeply as if he was going to eat and drink from her. She felt his tongue entering her and her walls clenched slightly around it, and she let out a gasp. He pressed his nose against her clit and pushed, while his tongue entered her and explored those warm insides.

Rose bucked her hips against his mouth, trying desperately to make him go deeper into her. James grinned as much as he could with his mouth against her and suddenly he stood back.

Rose whined for the lack of administrations, but she didn't have to worry, because before she could even look down at him he had inserted a couple of fingers into her and was now pushing them inside of her, and mercilessly stretching them as far as he could get.

He knew that she came when he felt his fingers squeezed by her tight walls, and he looked up at her just in time to see her face flushed and screwed up by the blissful experience, she hadn't moaned or cried, though, too busy to keep her mind on the wonderful sensations that were shooting through her.

Rose felt James standing up from the bed, his fingers released her and she opened her eyes sure to find him standing on his feet next to her, and afraid that the next step would be pushing his length into her mouth. But when she looked at him, she found him looking back at her, his eyes filled with love and delight.

She smiled a little and he smiled back, and then he slid back over her and reached for her tied up hands, he gripped them and slipped easily into her, she was already so wet and welcoming that she didn't feel any pain at all, only some more bliss that melt with all she had already felt so far.

James' lips found hers as he moved slowly in her, and she arched her back trying to kiss him more passionately. And it didn't take him a lot before he was leaning his sweaty forehead against her cheek and coming into her. He breathed heavily for a while, until he felt Rose's body moving softly under him, bringing him back to reality. He exited her and dragged her limp body near to her, sitting up next to her hands.

James looked down at her and Rose looked expectantly back at him, he placed his hands over the belt and unfastened it, making Rose's hands falling, numb and sore, on the pillow. He undid the belt around her wrists and took her hands in his wide, callous palms, caressing the red, swollen wrists with his fingers. He lay down next to her and brought them to his mouth, where he started to kiss her hot, swollen skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her little blue bruises.

"Why?" she murmured, her head deep in her pillow as she looked at him through half-closed eyes.

"I told you that I would never hurt you and look at your hands," he said, keeping up with the kissing.

She smiled, his lips on her wrists was such a good sensation. "I hurt myself," she replied simply, "I pulled at the belt." She looked thoughtfully at him. "But I pulled because you were pushing me, so yeah, I guess it's all your fault."

James looked up at her, his mouth slightly open in half a grin and half a surprised look. He let her wrists go and sneaked his arm behind her back, attracting her to him, his mouth now on hers. "Then," he said between kisses, "if it's all my fault, I think that I'll have to keep kissing you until you'll be tired."

She giggled under him. "I'll never be tired," she murmured.

He laughed softly near her ear. "Then until we don't hear that someone's back," he muttered.

She nodded in agreement and slowly lost herself in James' kisses and soft touches. "Love you," she murmured so quietly that it never reached his ear.

* * *

"Summer's too short," complained Albus on the Hogwarts Express. He looked from Scorpius to Rose, sat across from him. "And you are two of the people that I hate most on this train," he added a bit too cheerfully.

Scorpius grinned. "Because we have perfect Prefect badges that say that we're Prefects or because we're irresistibly sexy? "he asked.

Albus didn't answer, instead he rolled his eyes and stood up, he passed in front of Scorpius and Rose and opened the door of the compartment. "I'm off looking for the Lady with the Trolley," he informed them.

Rose looked up at him from her book. "Can't you wait another couple of hours? We'll be there soon and there's the feast," she pointed out a bit too frantically.

Albus looked at her and furrowed his brow. "No," he answered simply as he walked out and closed the door behind him.

Rose looked at him as he disappeared in the wagon, she felt her cheeks slightly hot without knowing why. Or maybe she did: she had never sat alone with Scorpius since that afternoon in the Lake, she had never talked to him about that, and he had never mentioned the thing to her. They simply had deliberately erased those five minutes from their memories and kept on behaving if nothing had happened between them. But that was just because they've never stayed alone together in a place, they were always surrounded by people. Especially Albus, that wouldn't have liked to see the two of them getting too close to each others. They've already talked about that, and it was clear that Albus would have killed everybody placed his hands on the little girl. _Don't worry, Albus,_ thought Scorpius bitterly, _she doesn't want that too._

Scorpius' eyes travelled to Rose, she was stubbornly not looking at him, her eyes focused on something out of the window that only she could see. An uncomfortable silence fell in the compartment, so thick that the friends could hear their blood pulsing in their temples or their hearts beating. Scorpius gulped and he felt as if the sound he did had echoed for the whole wagon. But Rose didn't even turn to look at him.

Scorpius rolled his eyes, annoyed that she wasn't doing anything to fill that frustrating silence, so he finally decided to do something himself. He had thought about asking her how she had found the Potions homework they had to do for the summer, but when he opened his mouth something slightly different came out. "You look great," he blurted out unexpectedly.

Rose finally looked at him, her cheeks blushing a little, her lips parting slightly. "Th-thank you," she replied, "you too."

He nodded. "Rose, I'm sorry about that afternoon at the Lake, I didn't know what got into me, I mean… we are friends, and I love you, well… like a friend," he added quickly, "and you were staying there in your swimsuit, and you looked so cute with all your hair floating around your face and you were laughing and I really like when you laugh and then… well you know what happened, and I still can't understand what got into me and--"

"Scorpius," she said gently, "just slow down a little, will you?" She smiled reassuringly.

Scorpius nodded, he took a deep breath and looked at her, his pale complexion slightly on fire on his face. "I just wanted to let you know that I find you rather attractive and--"

"I find you…hem…rather attractive as well, Scorpius," she said, but something in her eyes and tone of voice didn't reassure him, "but I told you, I'm in love with someone else."

Scorpius nervous face became suddenly annoyed. "You don't have to lie to me, you know," he hissed, "you just have to say no."

Rose looked at him, dazed. "Why do you think that I'm lying?" she asked softly.

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "And who's this someone else?" he asked. "That can't see how special you are?"

Rose frowned slightly. "Who tells you that he doesn't see how special I am?" she asked, flushing a bit for the not-so-veiled compliment

"Come on, Rose," he said, annoyed, "we would know if you were with someone, wouldn't we?"

Rose bit her bottom lip and looked away without answering.

"Wouldn't we?" repeated Scorpius weakly.

Rose took a deep breath and looked at him with a sharp smile. "I guess you would," she told him softly.

Scorpius' lips parted slightly in surprise. He had expected her to finally confess who she was seeing, but she didn't. "Why don't you give me a chance, then?" he murmured so quietly that Rose didn't hear him, instead she looked up as the door opened and her cousin walked in and threw them some Chocolate Frogs.

They almost jumped as the Chocolate Frogs landed in their laps and Albus sat back on his seat. He looked at them with a half-melt leg of a frog that still moved in his mouth and said, "Di I interput somging?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Swallow, Albus," she said.

Scorpius chuckled. "Anyway, no," he answered him, he cast a glance to Rose and gave her a small smile, and that settled it, he wouldn't have got back to the matter ever again. She knew how he felt, if she changed her mind, he was there. And even if she didn't, he was there for her as well.

* * *

Rose let out a small cry of surprise when an arm sneaked around her waist and pushed her against a body, she gripped the arm with her hands and turned to look at the boy who was towering over her, but he pressed his lips on hers before she could even get a glimpse of him.

But she knew that flavour and those lips, and so she shut her eyes and enjoyed that kiss and the arms around her waist that were so enthusiastically hugging her that she was almost lifted off her feet. When he let her go she leaned her head against his neck.

"Why is James Potter Junior kissing me in a corridor?" she asked, smiling softly.

"Because James Potter Junior had borrowed his brother's map," he said, showing her a piece of parchment where their names were almost overlapped in an empty corridor. "And because he couldn't wait till tonight to kiss his girl."

She freed herself from James and turned to face him, a soft, gentle smile on her lips. "It's afternoon," she murmured, playing with his tie, "you wouldn't be found in compromising situations with me."

James glanced at the map. "Maybe I would," he murmured, swallowing, his hands going to her waist.

She glanced at the map as well. "I'm sure you wouldn't," she replied softly, she nodded towards the parchment and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him at the same time, her hands flying towards his neck.

James glanced over her shoulder at the map and saw a little label with the name of Jack Wood on it that moved briskly towards them. And when he pulled away from Rose it wasn't unexpected at all for the red haired girl.

She looked up at him with her eyes wide and an amused smile. "He's still far," she murmured.

"Yeah," said James, "but he's coming here." He tipped the map with his wand and murmured, "Mischief Managed." He looked at her. "You go that way." He pointed to his right. "I'll go this one." He pointed to his left.

"But James…"

"No buts, Rose," he answered curtly, walking away with a haste pace.

She looked at him as he became smaller and finally disappeared behind a corner, eventually she sighed and bit her bottom lip. He was always so concerned that someone could see them together that it almost hurt her.

"Weasley," Wood approached her, she had completely forgotten about getting away.

"Wood," she replied absent-mindedly, her eyes still fixed on the point where James had disappeared.

"What are you doing all alone in a deserted corridor?" he asked, grinning. "Bad boys could take advantage of this," he added, lowering his voice.

Rose rolled her eyes. "You're sick," she snapped, walking away.

Wood hadn't expected her to react that way, not so quickly at least. "Hey, what did I say?" he asked.

"Just sod off, Wood," she muttered under her breath and disappeared behind the same corner of James.

* * *

"You look nice with an apron on you," giggled Rose. She was sitting on the kitchen table at the Burrow, her bare, milky legs swinging lazily from over the edge, her shorts tight around her thighs, and her top a bit too loosely around her torso. One of her straps fell down her shoulder as she laughed.

James looked at her from over his shoulder and smirked. "Yeah, I'm sexy even with an apron," he joked, his hands deep in a sink full of water and foam.

Rose giggled even louder, she leaned back on the table and raised her leg, pushing at his bottom in a playful way, her toes caressing his cheeks.

James moved away uncomfortably. He turned and glanced through the door, to the living room, where Mr Weasley was playing Wizard Chess with Albus and Hugo, and Victoire was breast-feeding her little first born in a corner far from everybody's eyes. "Rose," he whispered softly, nodding towards the door and scowling.

She rolled her eyes, scratching the shoulder from where she had deliberately not pulled back on the strap of her top. "I'm just joking, James," she complained, "stop worrying for a while."

He smiled nervously to her. "Okay," he replied simply, going back to the plates he was washing.

"I can't believe that you've done the washing up for almost a dozen of summers in this house, and now that you can use magic to get rid of that pile of dirty plates you have to do them the Muggle way," she laughed.

James darkened, his back curving a little. "Well, if you hadn't cheated during our little swimming match, I wouldn't have been stuck here with an apron and a pile of dirty plates to wash," he said.

"I haven't cheated," she giggled, "you decided that that was a nice moment to stop and kiss me. It's all your fault."

James turned and reduced her to dust with a glare. "Lower your voice, for Merlin's beard," he barked.

Rose stuck out her tongue to him. "They aren't even listening to us," she said nonchalantly, "they don't give a damn that we are talking about what we do, James."

"Yeah, well, you never know," he said darkly, "my sister is the most curious girl of her age, that's for sure."

"And you don't have to worry at all," she sighed, "because you're so secretive that she will never get anything."

James turned towards the sink. "Well, what do you want me to do? Shag with you in the living room?"

Rose was thrilled by the fact that they were talking about their private life in the room next to the one where their relatives were sitting and chatting or playing. "Make out with me on this table," she suggested, giggling.

James turned at once. "Oh," he murmured, "so you want me to make out with you on this table." He took a couple of steps towards her and smirked. "Maybe right now."

Rose smiled. "That would be wonderful," she replied, straightening her back and licking her lips sensually, her hand brushing her breasts and stomach. She had a hard time to keep from laughing, she knew that he would have never gone too far, not with all those people near them.

He took another step towards her. "Right now," he murmured. He sneaked his hands over her back and pulled her to him. She cried and laughed at the same time as he passed his wet and foamed hands over her back and hips. "Like this?" he asked, laughing.

"What are you doing here?"

James let go of Rose almost immediately as their grandmother stepped in the kitchen, her face was pale, her lips slightly parted and she was looking at them horrified.

"Grandma," murmured James, lowering his eyes, "we were just…"

"Playing," Rose finished for him, looking in Mrs Weasley's eyes. "Why?"

Molly seemed to stagger a little. "You… you are getting foam on my floor," she murmured, but in some way they knew that it wasn't what she had intended to say.

"Sorry, we're going to clean this mess," said Rose, jumping down from the table and pulling her strap back on her shoulder. "You just go and relax."

"No," she said firmly, "you go, I'll finish this." She looked to Rose. "Go and see if Victoire needs something, will you?"

Rose nodded. "Let's go, James."

"No!" snapped Mrs Weasley nervously. "James, you go and help Lily with her homework."

"Homework?" he asked horrified. "Grandma, I don't think that I'm the most qualified to help--"

"Just do it!" snapped Molly, and with that she dismissed her grandchildren from the kitchen, but from that moment she always kept an eye on her. Ron and Ginny could laugh at her for her strange ideas as much as they wanted, but cousins were not like siblings, and she knew it very well, especially as she looked at Rose and James getting so close. Cousins were very much not like siblings.

* * *

Author's Note: Yeah, next time we are back in the future.. but I think that my updates will be more sporadic since I'm heading back for Venice and have four exams in a month. Wish me good luck, my faithful readers.. :) Thanks for reading this, by the way..


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: So, yeah.. There's an updated.. A little update.. I'm studying hard for my exams, but in the evenings, when I'm not watching movies or relaxing or correcting my chapters or doing all the things that someone might be doing in the evening, I keep on writing this fanfiction... So, about this chapter.. I think it's very very confusing and bad written, worst than the others at least, especially because there were some bits that I needed to add to keep the scene together, but that they weren't in my mind like all the rest of the story... As it is always. Always. ALWAYS in my mind! It's driving me crazy.. Anyway, in this chapter there's a reference to a movie that I saw quite a lot of time ago and that I don't remember very well, but I loved it and this scene imprinted in my mind forever. The movie is "The Dangerous Lives of the Altar Boys" and the scene is when one of the main characters tell to a boy who is his "enemy" (they are about 14-15 yo, I guess, so maybe they are just not getting along very well) that "at least he doesn't shag his little sister" (I saw it in Italian, not sure what could have been the line in English), and the other boy is shocked by the fact that he knows his secret. The movie was lovely, even with the incestuous part.. Have you seen it? Would love to talk to someone who had seen it. Anyway, the scene is almost exactly that, they were even playing (European football not Quidditch), so I don't exactly own it, I guess.. One last thing, I'm having these "visions of the end", and it's quite terrible, dramatic, sad, angsty and every other adjective you can think of... But, gosh, I love this kind of things.. Yeah ... I know... Don't say a word... :) Enjoy this chapter so far..

* * *

**Scorpius**

"Class dismissed," said Slughorn calmly. He walked slowly towards his desk and sat down, looking placidly at the students put their little phials in front of him. "Not bad, Malfoy. Not too terrible, Potter. Not exactly the colour that there's on the book, eh, Wood? Not bad, Davies. Having a bad day, Miss Weasley?" Slughorn laughed softly, his wide stomach dancing like a pudding.

Some of the students glanced up at Rose from their desks, she was standing in front of Slughorn, glowering for the unkind comment he had just paid her. Surely her potion was steaming and stinking, and it was a bright orange instead of a soft pink, but it was the first time in six years that she had a potion so wrong, it wasn't necessary to make a fuss about it.

"I guess I put the eyes of newt too early," she replied quietly.

"And the frog's tongue too late," said Professor Slughorn. He put her phial next to the others and kept on his annoying commenting. "Nice try, Smith. Maybe Potions is not your subject, Green. Not too bad, Stoney."

Rose walked back to her desk and threw her bag over it, starting to stuff all her belongings inside with angry, quick movements. Murmuring under her breath things that Professor Slughorn didn't need to hear at all.

She vanished the remains of her potion and pulled the cauldron into her sack, knocking over a set of phials that crashed on the floor with sharp noises. Some heads turned to look at her, but she glared at all of them before they could approach her and ask if she was all right. All except one.

"You all right?" asked Scorpius as he walked towards her.

"Yes," she replied curtly, kneeling to pick up the pieces of glass and the phials, her eyes deliberately avoiding to look at him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking down at her, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

She let out a soft cry, half of pain and half of surprise and stood up immediately, the pieces of glass falling back on the floor as she brought her index finger to her lips and sucked it.

"Did you cut yourself?" he asked, trying to peer over her head, his voice a bit too worried for just a tiny cut.

"I'm fine," she murmured, still sucking on the tip.

"Here, let me help you," he said, taking gently her hand into his and pulling out his wand from a pocket.

Rose's hand slid away from his before he could restrain her. "I can heal myself," she said curtly, looking away from him. She kneeled back and stretched her hand towards the sharp glasses, but before she could touch them, they all flew above her head and onto the table, sticking together to take the shape of the phials that she had just broken.

She glared at the floor as if it had done something terrible to her, then, closing her fists, she stood up and put the phials away, knowing that Scorpius was looking intently at her. "I could have done that," she hissed, her eyes on the bag.

"I'm sure you could," he replied softly. "The problem is, why didn't you do it?" He leaned his bottom against her desk and crossed his arms, eyeing her suspiciously.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not in the mood, Scorpius," she snapped, "leave me alone."

"I will, as soon as you tell me what's troubling you," he said simply.

She snorted. "I'm fine," she replied, "perfectly fine." She put the bag on her shoulder and glanced briefly at him before looking at the door. "Now, if you will excuse me…"

Scorpius' arm darted towards her and she bumped into it, her belly crashing against his hard muscles. She glared at him. "Scorpius," she snapped, bringing automatically a hand to her stomach and caressing it protectively, "that hurt."

"Rubbish," he muttered. "Listen, it's clear like the sun that there's something wrong with you, just tell me what is it and we can get over it."

She snorted. "I can get over it by myself."

"A-ah!" He pointed a finger to her. "So you're admitting that there's something wrong!"

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks suddenly flushed slightly. "There's nothing wrong," she hissed, "it's just not a good time."

"Come on, Rose…"

"Scorpius, seriously, you and Albus should learn how to mind your own business once in a while," she snapped.

"Why? What did Albus do?" he asked, his grey eyes widening a little.

"Just going a bit mad because yesterday I didn't feel well," she blurted out.

"I didn't know it," he said quickly, "are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Seriously," she added, looking in his eyes.

Scorpius looked in her eyes for a long moment, and she bravely held his stare. Suddenly he looked away. "Okay," he said, "but there's something that's bothering you, I can tell."

She let out a soft laugh. "Oh, really?" she asked. "And how would you?"

"My father have been teaching me Legilimency," he informed her.

She let out another laugh, but stopped when she saw his deadly serious stare. "Really?" she asked almost revolted.

Scorpius' lips curled a little. "He tried, but I'm not exactly gifted, as he said," he confessed while Rose let out a deep breath of relief, her mouth parting slightly as she thought of the consequences if Scorpius knew how read other's minds. "What are you hiding, Rose?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Rose looked away from him and was dazed to see that they were the last two students left in the classroom. "I'm not hiding anything," she muttered, walking past him.

"Why I don't' believe you?" he asked, walking past her and standing on the door, his arms wide to keep her in the class.

"I have classes," she snapped, stopping in front of him.

"Not before this afternoon," he pointed out.

"Well, I need to go to the library," she almost shouted. "Go away, Scorpius." She pushed her hands on his chest, but he didn't move.

"Tell me what's wrong and I'll go away," he said, smirking.

Rose's hands gripped Scorpius' shirt tightly, then she let him go and lowered her eyes. "I can't tell you," she murmured, her angry tone slightly broken by soft, unexpected sobs. "Just leave me alone."

"I'm not going to leave you alone if you're--"

"Just let me go, Scorpius!" she broke out, raising her shining eyes over him, her cheeks strained with tears. "Let me go and leave me alone!" She threw herself at him and gripped his shirt with trembling hands.

Scorpius blinked, surprised. He gripped her wrists and stopped her hands, while she melt into sobs; her knees failed her and she slowly slid on the floor, with Scorpius by her side. She leaned her head against his chest and started to sob and sniffle against him.

Scorpius' hands went to her head as he started to caress her red curls. "Hey, it's fine," he soothed her, "I'm here."

"Scorpius," she sobbed.

"Rose, I'm here," he whispered to her, hugging and caressing her hair.

She sniffled again and Scorpius started to feel his shirt soaking with her tears, but he didn't care. She was his friend and she was in need, he would have soothed her forever if that was what it took to make her feel better. Suddenly, she pushed away from him, her milky hands wiped away the tears she had in her eyes and all over her face and she looked up at him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "I didn't mean…"

"Just tell me what's bothering you," he whispered, "I can help you."

She shook her head softly, her eyes lowering again. "No, you can't."

"You don't know if you don't try," he said, smiling softly.

Rose bit her bottom lip. She really wanted to talk to someone, she needed to get it off her chest, she knew that she couldn't have lasted long before screaming out loud that she was pregnant with her cousin's child if she didn't tell someone.

"D-do you remember when I told you that I was in love with someone?" she murmured softly.

Scorpius swallowed, but all of a sudden his mouth was rather dry. He nodded, feeling his voice failing him.

"I think I've just broken up with that person," she sobbed.

Scorpius' took a deep breath to keep himself from complimenting with her. "Really?" he asked a bit too happily than he had intended. Then he seemed to understand something. "What do you mean that you think?" he added after a while.

She sniffled again. "No. I'm sure that he left me," she reassured him.

"Well, that's terrific," he exclaimed. Rose glared at him. "Terrible, I meant," he corrected himself quickly. "Why did you break up with him?"

She shook her head. "None of your business," she murmured.

Scorpius bit his bottom lip. "Sure," he replied quietly. "Can I know at least who this boy is?"

Rose sighed, and pressed her head against Scorpius' chest, trying to keep her face away from his eyes. "James," she let out so softly that Scorpius had to lean forward to hear her.

"James… James Catesby?" he asked, his mind flying disgusted to a short fifth year from Hufflepuff.

She shook her head against him. "James Potter," she corrected him.

Scorpius' hands tightened on her shoulders. "Rose," he murmured, his eyes wide with horror. "He's your first cousin," he breathed out.

Rose felt her cheeks on fire, as if, all of a sudden she understood that it had been a terrible idea to tell Scorpius about her and James. "I'm well aware of that," she said sharply.

"Then, what in Merlin's name were you thinking?" he asked her, his hands suddenly pushing her backwards so that he could look at her in her eyes and let her see that he was shocked.

She darkened. "I thought you would have understood me," she said, shaking his hands off her and standing up.

"I'm trying," he said, standing up as well and looking at her as she put the bag back on her shoulder. "Did he force you?"

She looked at him, her face screwed up with anger. "No!" she snapped, "how can you even think at something like that?"

Scorpius darkened. "I'm sorry," he muttered. He tried to gain his composure. "And why did he leave you? Did he come back to his senses?"

Rose's jaw fell. "How dare you?" she yelled. "How dare you to say something like this?"

Scorpius smirked and suddenly he looked very much like his father. "Oh, am I upsetting you?"

She looked at him, flushed with anger and panting. "You can joke how much you want," she hissed, "but I swear that if you tell anybody what I told you I…"

"Nobody in his right mind would believe me," he hissed back, "it's something fair too disgusting."

She stepped back and crashed against a desk, bringing a hand to her mouth. "You are horrible, Malfoy," she blurted out.

Scorpius glared at her, more than everything the fact that she'd called him 'Malfoy' hurt him. "No, Weasley," he hissed, "_you_ are horrible." And with that he turned and walked away, the door of the classroom banging at his back.

As soon as his steps faded away in the corridor, Rose's tears started to flow down again, and as she collapsed on a chair she brought her hands to her belly and pressed over it. "Why to me?" she asked softly. She hid her face in her hands and cried until her eyes were dry.

* * *

Quidditch might have been exactly what someone needed to get rid of anxiety, fear and obsession. A little bit of movement in the fresh air of that November afternoon, the four houses that cheered for them and naturally some brutal punches into the balls.

James walked amongst his teammates to give his usual speech before a match. "Okay," he started out more determined than ever, "listen, I know that this is just our second match this year, and that we have already won the first one, but--" He looked at them all, his expression darkening. "--I don't give a damn," he finished. "If in the last matches you played at one hundred percent of your possibilities, now you have to play at one hundred and twenty. I don't want you to beat Slytherin today, I want you to smash them." He glanced at his brother. "And I don't care if you have friends amongst them, if I see you acting all nice, I swear that I will throw you out of the team."

Albus looked at his teammates, who looked back at him with worried expressions, and then he glanced to his brother. "James, I think that you're a bit too enthusiastic," he muttered, "chill out, it's just a game."

James walked towards Albus and stood before him, his eyes burning as he looked down at his little brother. "Chill out?" he hissed. "Don't talk to me about chilling out, you've skipped the last training, Albus. I'm not chilling out, I want you to knock that Malfoy boy over his broom, that's what will make me chill out." He narrowed his eyes. "And I don't care if he's your boyfriend."

Albus looked at him, horrified. "You're not so funny, you know," he said, walking past him and deliberately crashing his shoulder against James.

James turned and pushed at his brother's chest. "_You_ are not funny," he hissed, sending him on the floor.

Albus stood up, boiling with rage. He opened his mouth to reply something that if his grandmother would have heard he was likely to spend the rest of his life locked in his bedroom, when the door that brought to the pitch opened and the cheers of the crowd reached their ears.

"Sorry to interrupt you," said Wood, placing a hand on Albus' shoulder and looking at James, "but they're waiting for us."

Albus shook him off and grabbed his broomstick, walking past James he glared at him, but none of them spoke. They positioned at the entrance and mounted their broomsticks, James on the front with Albus at his side. The captain and the Seeker, just like their father had been standing there with his own Quidditch captain many years before.

They pushed the ground with their feet and soon they were zooming around the pitch, a roar coming from the crowd as they dived and raised. The Slytherin team flew out from a door opposite to theirs, and zoomed between them, laughing and screaming and grimacing at their opponents.

Scorpius flew close to Albus, who waved his hand slightly, controlling around himself to see where his brother was. "James told me to knock you over your broom," he hissed, "he's mad, that's what he is."

Scorpius' eyes widened. "He did what?" he asked, looking around to find him. "Bastard."

Albus looked at Scorpius. "But I won't do it," he said unnecessarily, "don't worry."

Scorpius looked at him and snorted. "I'm not worrying," he replied curtly and, smirking, he flew away.

Madam Hooch walked into the middle of the pitch and started to speak about fair play and rules to a group of students which wasn't listening to her, too focused on glaring at their opponents to mind her speech, which was, after all, just the same as every match. Their eyes darted towards the middle of the pitch when the commentator blurted out about the Quaffle and the Bludgers, and then there was the usual chaos that accompanied every Quidditch match, with players that whooshed and peopled that screamed.

James flew near the three circles that he had to defend, his eyes scanning the pitch for the Slytherin Chasers, his mouth shouting orders and his hands gesturing furiously in front of him. Robinson, one of the Slytherin, zoomed next to him, the Quaffle under his arm. He smirked as he prepared himself to throw the ball, but a Bludger hit him in his ribs and the Gryffindor Chaser, Malkin, took the Quaffle in her hands and flew away.

"Good one, Georgia," shouted James, complimenting with someone for the first time that day. He looked at her as she flew past the Slytherin Beaters and reached the other side of the pitch, she threw the Quaffle, but the Slytherin Keeper saved it.

"Is that your one hundred and twenty percent, Malkin?" shouted James heatedly. "Where are those Bludgers, Wood? What are you waiting for? Are you a Beater or what?"

Wood flew next to Albus and darkened. "Tell him something," he muttered, deliberately hitting a Bludger in James' direction.

"What should I tell him?" asked Albus, his eyes scanning the sky for the Snitch. "He won't listen to anybody."

"Then find that damn Snitch soon," snapped Wood, before flying away.

Scorpius zoomed for the pitch, his eyes searching for the Snitch as desperately as Albus was. All he had to do was to catch it before Albus and then cheer in front of James Potter for the rest of his life. He glared at the Gryffindor as he flew next to him, and James glared back at him.

"Hey, Albus," cried James, "remember what I told you to do."

Scorpius turned his broom and flew back in front of James, his eyes fixed in James' instead than looking for the Snitch. At that moment Albus flew towards his brother as well, his face dark.

"Give it a rest, will you?" Albus snapped.

"No, I won't," bit out James. "Get rid of your little _boyfriend_."

"Shut up, Potter," snapped Scorpius, "don't you see? Not even your brother wants to listen to you."

James glared at Albus. "I'll get rid of him," he said curtly, flying away. He gesticulated towards Wood, at the same time keeping his attention towards the field and screaming at his brother about the Snitch.

Scorpius flew next to Albus again. "I swear that if he keeps up with this annoy--" Scorpius words were trapped in his mouth when a Bludger flew a few inches from his ear.

"Better if you watch your head, _Scorpion_," yelled James, giving the bat back to Wood and sneering.

Scorpius narrowed his eyes, he bent on the broomstick and sprinted towards the Gryffindor Keeper, too quickly and unexpectedly for James to manage to get away, Scorpius crashed his broom against James' one knocking him off, like he would have wanted to send him.

James screamed, and the crowd held its breath as he fell down from various feet. Madam Hooch glared at Scorpius, but when the Slytherin dived behind him, she interpreted it like a kind gesture and his scowl became a sigh of relief. Maybe Scorpius Malfoy didn't do that on purpose. Maybe.

James landed painfully on the ground, his broom falling a few inches from him, he stretched a hand towards the broomstick, but Scorpius kicked it away and threw himself at him, his hands going to his robes, he pulled James' chest up and the Gryffindor boy gripped the Slytherin's wrists.

"You wanted me to be knocked off my broom," Scorpius hissed, "very fair from a Gryffindor."He sat over his ribs, crashing him to the ground with his weight.

"You don't deserve anything fair, Malfoy," James hissed back, "you are son of a Death Eater." He bent his knee and hit Scorpius forcefully, cutting the air off of him.

Scorpius rolled off him, he gritted his teeth and stood up quickly, facing James as he got on his feet near him. "Really?" he whispered, he narrowed his eyes and sneered. "Because I'm sure that your family is perfect, you poor grandson of the poor Weasleys."

James ran towards him and pushed at his chest, sending him flying on the floor. Scorpius coughed, but had the forces to glare at James. "Son of Harry Potter," James reminded him with a smirk, "and you're repulsive, Malfoy," he snapped, "you had to knock me off to win this match."

Scorpius looked at him disgusted. "No, Potter, you are repulsive." He looked around himself, but all the crowd was too busy looking at Albus who was following the Golden Snitch all around the pitch. "Beacause at least I don't shag my little cousin," he finally blurted out.

There was nothing else that Scorpius could say that would have made James react the way he reacted; his face fell at once, the fire of his anger was overwhelmed by a frosty cold fear that invaded his insiders and reached every limb of his body, as if ice melted in his stomach, and he felt the urge to throw up. His face was crossed by a thousand feelings, fear, anger, anxiety, pain, sickness. He staggered a little as he took some steps back, his mouth opened, but no sound exited it. He shook his head softly, and all of a sudden Scorpius was afraid that the Gryffindor boy was going to cry, but instead James turned on his heels and ran away, his broomstick forgotten on the ground just like everything else.

Scorpius looked at him, suddenly aware to have done something terrible. He followed James with his eyes until he disappeared outside the Quidditch pitch and when Albus landed noisily next to him he seemed to not even notice him. The Quidditch pitch started to spin around him, the noise of the crowd melted with the blood that was pounding wildly in his temples, his vision blurred and for a moment he felt as if he was sick.

"What happened?" asked Albus, and Scorpius felt as if his voice came from another place and another time. "Where's James going?"

Scorpius didn't answer him. He didn't even looked at his friend, instead his eyes darted towards the crowd of Gryffindors that was cheering for some reason that he didn't care to discover. They were half hidden by scarves and posters and they were moving and talking and wearing all the same colours, so squeezed in the terraces that they seemed ready to fall down.

"Where's Rose?" asked Scorpius nervously, his eyes still on the crowd, trying to spot her among her fellow housemates.

"What?" asked Albus, who couldn't find a link between a fight between his brother and his best friend, and his cousin.

"Where's Rose?" the Slytherin roared, finally looking at Albus.

"At the castle," answered Albus, "she said that she wasn't feeling well and that—hey!" But Scorpius wasn't listening to him anymore, he had already sprinted away, running with his already short breath out of the pitch and up the hill that brought to the castle, tripping over rocks and roots, almost falling sometimes, but never stopping to run.

If he was the first person to whom Rose told her secret, very likely he was also the last one, and since James didn't seem the kind of man that went out screaming his affairs in the Great Hall, Scorpius knew that James had already understood that it was Rose the one that had told him; and since James Potter Junior was well known for his rough manners and flying into rages, he didn't want to know what he could have done to Rose.

As he got to the main door of the castle, he knew that there were only two places where he would have found her, the library and the Gryffindor common room. If she was in the second one, there was nothing that he could have done but wait for her to come looking for him, and then prey; so he ran towards the library, chewing his bottom lip until it bleed and twisting his hands in his lap.

He ran through corridors and up the stairs, his Quidditch shoes clicking on the stone floor in a quick pace, his panting louder every second that passed. When he finally reached the library he pushed the door open and called Rose's name on the top of his voice, or at least, with the few air that he had left in his lungs.

Madam Pince shushed him scandalized, but he didn't pay her any attention as he started to run among the shelves and call her name even more forcefully. With every step he took he felt his heart pounding even more loudly and painfully, the hopefulness of finding her there melting slowly like snow under the sun.

Finally, "Scorpius," said a tiny voice behind a shelf.

Scorpius went towards the voice and there she was, standing next to a table covered with her books and notes, she had a hand on the desk, and was looking at him without understanding why he would run into a library and scream her name instead of being at the Quidditch match.

"Rose," he panted. He walked to her and squeezed her in a hug. "Are you all right?"

Rose raised her eyebrows. "Yes, shouldn't I?" she asked, without understanding.

Scorpius let her go and backed a little. "Where's James?" he asked, looking around.

"I thought he was at the match, like you should be." She cast him an odd glance. "What happened?"

"Didn't you see him?" asked Scorpius, not really listening to her.

"No, I told you, he must be at the match," she replied with irritation. "Why?"

Scorpius looked at her, his face almost desperate. "Oh, Rose, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," he groaned, "I… I don't know what got into me, we were fighting and he was insulting my father and then… oh, I'm so sorry, Rose…"

Rose frowned. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice not able to hide a vague fear.

Scorpius swallowed. "It slipped me, I swear, I didn't mean to tell him…"

"Scorpius, what are you talking about?" she repeated, her voice a bare whisper.

"I told James that I knew," he mumbled finally, "that I knew of you two being together."

All of a sudden, the world started to rotate around Rose, and for a moment the room became cold and hot at the same time. She had to grip the desk not to fall down; one of her hands closed into a fist, her nails dug into her flesh and little half-moons filled with blood. She turned towards he books and started to put her things away, her face ghostly white and her hands shaking.

"Rose," murmured Scorpius, "I'm sorry…"

She turned to look at him. "I bet you are, you little, filthy traitor," she hissed, looking at him with hatred.

"I didn't mean to--"

"It was a secret, Scorpius," she cried, raising her voice in the library for the first time in all her life, "I trusted you, and you betrayed me." She shook her head miserably. "And you had to tell James of all the people in this place."

He groaned. "It slipped me…"

"Next time, bite your tongue before speaking!" she snapped furiously. She put her bag on her shoulder and walked past him.

"Where are you going?" he asked weakly.

But she didn't turn, nor answered him. She just kept going until she was out of the library, away from him.

* * *

James kicked his trunk, screaming as he did so. He grabbed the curtain that had been hung at the bed for years and tore it into pieces, then he kicked the trunk again and finally punched the wall with his fists. That hurt and the pain helped him focusing on something different from Scorpius and Rose. He cried out and punched the wall again and again, until heavy drops of sticky blood fell on the floor form his knuckles. He was sure that Rose was torturing him for what he had done to her, but he would have preferred to suffer the Cruciatus Curse rather than let Scorpius Malfoy know about them.

He punched the wall another time and stopped with his fist against the stones when two arms sneaked around his waist, a hand reached for his shoulder and squeezed it, while a little body leaned against his back. He held his breath, recognizing the sound of those tears, knowing them well because so many times he had been the one to cause to make them run freely.

He stiffened his back, but didn't move. His look becoming hard and distant while he gritted his teeth. "Have you told someone else?" he bit out.

She tightened her arms around him and deepened her head into his back. Soaking his Quidditch uniform with her tears. "I'm sorry," she sobbed.

James didn't answer. For some strange reason that he didn't understand, even if he was mad at her like he had never been in all his life, her little body clenched forcefully against his, soothed his rage and for a moment it filled him of wonderful memories and love. But he forced himself to stay still. "You'll be when the whole school knows," he snapped. "Did you tell him about the baby?"

She sniffled noisily. "No," she whispered, "I swear."

James pushed his fist painfully against the wall and gritted his teeth while more blood fell from his hands. "Go away," he hissed.

She just hugged him more tightly, pressing her head in his back almost painfully.

"Rose, go away," he repeated sounding desperate. "Leave me alone."

Rose sobbed. "Please, James, don't send me away," she whispered against his back.

James gritted his teeth, a part of his brain was screaming to turn and hug her, the other part was hissing him to push her away, out of the dorm and lock the door between them two. James cried in frustration and punched the wall another time, his little bones creaking dangerously.

Rose's arms tightened. "James, don't…" she said weakly, but he just punched the wall even more forcefully. "James, please…" She sneaked her hands up his chest and gripped his arms in her tiny fingers, trying hard to pull them away from the wall, but he didn't move.

"Go away," he repeated despairingly. "Rose…"

She let him go, and James could hear everything: her soft steps as she walked away, her hushed sobs that she didn't even try to restrain, and the door when she closed it gently at her back. He leaned his head against the wall and breathed heavily and quickly, his heart banging almost painfully in his ribs. _What did you do?_ he heard his brain screaming at him, _what did you do?_


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Notes: Really.. Let's talk about this. Nobody read my last Author's Note, right? Nope.. Because there wasn't a single review about it! Okay, I got what to do, I simply have to write long AN on the headers and then summarize them at the bottom of the page, because people read more the ones at the bottom rather than at the headers. So, by the way, I had my first exam of this session and I think the mark won't be so bad. I have two next week, but I'm quite relaxed and that's not good! I need to be a bit more frightened of my exams. Anyway, this chapter is not really interesting, but there are two things that your should notice in the dialogues which are very very important.. I wonder if you can tell what those are.. ; I've already written chapter 9 as well, and that was great, I was really happy when everything was on my pc, now I won't think that at scene never again! It was haunting me quite badly lately.. Oh, you'll know what it'll be.. Anyway, enojy this chapter, even if nothing happens really.. Cya..

* * *

**Cousins**

Lily sat at the bottom of Rose's bed and crossed her arms. She looked at Rose as if she was the cause of all the sorrow in the world and took a deep breath. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her mouth was closed in a thin line. She waited for Rose to turn on the bed and look at her through her messy hair, before raising her chin with haughtiness.

Rose brought a hand to her face and rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. Her shirt was half undone and her plain bra was slightly visible under it. Her socks were down around her ankles and her skirt was more wrinkled than usually. She pushed on her elbows and raised her torso a little, looking at her cousin through sleepy eyes.

"Lily," she murmured, her voice slurred by sleep, "what are you doing here?"

"Checking on you, I guess," she said, her voice harsher than she had intended.

Rose frowned slightly. She straightened a bit more and looked more closely at Lily's face. "What?"

Lily nodded. "Checking on you," she repeated, "you weren't at breakfast this morning."

Rose swung her legs over the bed and sat up opposite from Lily, giving her back to her cousin. She brought a hand to her head, which spun for the sudden raising. "Yeah," she muttered, "I didn't feel well."

"It seems to happen a bit too often lately, doesn't it?" asked Lily sharply.

Rose didn't turn, but she could feel Lily's eyes on her back. "I guess I caught something," she replied curtly.

"I guess the world has caught something," snapped Lily.

"What are you talking about?" Rose grabbed one of the bedpost and stood up, she brought a hand to her belly, like she was getting used to do lately. Her stomach was vaguely swollen, not as much as to show anything to anybody, but enough to make it difficult for her to button her skirt. Sometimes, when she caressed it in the Great Hall, she could feel James' eyes on her.

"I'm talking about people acting eerily around you," Lily replied, looking at Rose as she rounded the bed and stood before her.

"I didn't notice anything," she said quietly.

"No?" asked Lily sharply. "You didn't notice James practically disappearing when you enter a room; you didn't see that Scorpius is always looking at you, but never talks to you; you didn't notice Albus trying to understand what's wrong with James and Scorpius and you and basically spend all his time by his own?"

Rose gripped the curtains around her bed. "Is that all?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No," said Lily, her hands fidgeting nervously around her arms. "You didn't notice when Hugo and I try to cheer you up, because you're always acting all gloomy since a month ago." She stopped and looked so intently into Rose's eyes that the older witch had to look away.

"Gloomy?" asked Rose, biting her bottom lip. "I thought that your mum called gloominess hormones."

"And I call it gloominess," she retorted. "So, are you going to tell me what's up?"

Rose shook her head slightly, as if she was trying to fight back a wave of nausea instead of answering her, she turned and looked out of the window. "Nothing," she replied.

"Rubbish."

"If I say nothing, it's nothing," she snapped, raising her voice.

"You lie as bad as your brother, you know?" hissed Lily.

Rose couldn't restrain a smirk. If she lied so badly, why nobody had noticed what had gone on for years with her cousin? No, Lily was so wrong it made her smile.

"Listen, okay?" said Lily suddenly. "I'm not Aunt Hermione or Uncle Ron, I don't want to know why your marks are lowering or--"

"My marks aren't lowering," she pointed out.

"--why you keep sleeping and eating instead of going to the library and helping me with my homework like you used to do," she kept on, "and why you don't talk to almost anybody."

Rose turned to look at her. "You need help with your homework? You came here just for that?" she asked.

Lily stood up and placed her hands on her hipbones. When Rose did that, she looked extremely like her mother or their grandmother; but when Lily did that gesture she looked like her own mother, and the effect was quite strange. It made you want to laugh and run at the same time. "Not only for that," she answered. "We are worrying about you."

"_We_?" she asked, without being able to conceal some hope in her voice.

"Hugo and I," snapped Lily, "are you even listening to me?"

Rose looked away. "What do you want me to do, Miss Perfection?" she asked sourly.

Lily rolled her eyes, she hated when Rose used the nicknames that she used to give her against herself. "Just come down and have something to eat while we chat about how insufferable Wood is or how good looking is becoming James Catesby."

Rose sighed. For a moment her normal life seemed so close to her that she was dazed to understand that all she had to do was seize it and kept on doing what she had done until that day of November, when she took that pregnancy test charm from the Hospital Wing and found out that nothing would ever be the same.

"Rose, are you here?" asked Lily, waving a hand in front of her.

Rose blinked. "What?" she asked, suddenly thrown back in reality.

"I asked you if you are coming with me or not?" Lily nodded towards the door and raised her eyebrows.

Rose sighed, she placed a hand on her stomach and a low rumble came from it. "Okay," she replied quietly, "I'm hungry."

Lily grinned. "Let's go to the Great Hall then, I'm sure that nobody will complain if we help ourselves with lunch a bit earlier than usually."

"Yeah," replied Rose, doing her shirt up and trying unsuccessfully to tame her hair in front of a mirror. She sighed annoyed with her own hair and turned away, following Lily down the stairs. "I hope there'll be potatoes."

* * *

Albus sucked his Sugar Quill thoughtfully. The library seemed so quiet in those days. Naturally, being the last few days before the Christmas holidays, everybody was outside, throwing snowballs to each other and laughing, drinking hot Butterbeers and sliding on the frozen Lake. _Everybody that has friends in their right minds,_ thought Albus bitterly.

It was more than a month that James walked around like a zombie. He never talked, he never smiled, he never laughed. He just entered a room, looked carefully around himself to see God only knew what, and if he was fine with what he saw he sat in a corner and stared at the wall for hours.

If that wasn't enough, Rose and Scorpius weren't talking to each other. They sat as far as they could in every classroom and never even glanced up to see what the other one was doing. At first Albus had started to sit once with Rose and once with Scorpius, trying unsuccessfully to understand what was going on, but they always dismissed his questions with a snort and some curses breathed under their breaths. And finally Rose had started to sit down with Mary Cook, a small Hufflepuff who attended most of the classes Rose had, and Albus had stopped sitting next to her.

Lily and Hugo seemed the only ones in their right minds, but Albus didn't have time to lose with them. They were still midgets, as James called them, even if two or three years before, when he was their age, he had felt almost an adult.

Anyway, at that moment someone crashed a pile of books next to Albus, and he almost chocked over the Sugar Quill that he was sucking.

"I can't believe it!" muttered a voice in front of him.

Albus raised his eyes to see who was snapping him out of his thoughts. "Jack," he said, pulling his piece of parchment from under the books that Jack Wood had let fall on the table. "What are you doing in the library?" he asked dazed.

Wood noisily moved a chair and collapsed on it, sitting next to Albus. "What does it look like?" he asked, taking a book from the pile and opening it.

"It looks like you're studying, but that's not possible," murmured Albus.

"Very funny," he commented icily. "We have five essays for this week."

"I know," answered Albus.

"And your cousin is nowhere to be found," he continued.

Albus rolled his eyes. "Is there a time in your life when you're not thinking about Rose?" he asked.

Wood looked at him scandalized. "No!" he exclaimed. "I need her every moment of my life. I need her to help me with the essays right now, for example."

"Why don't you ask her to marry you, then?" Albus asked, sighing.

"I did, she said no," replied Wood, flipping through the pages.

Albus chocked on the Quill for the second time. "You did?" he asked hoarsely.

Wood didn't look at him, but he smirked. "No," he replied. "But I will."

"And she'll say no," pointed out Albus, coughing, "like every time that you ask her something."

Wood shrugged slightly as if he was thinking that it wouldn't have been a thousand of refuses from Rose Weasley to make him change his mind about the girl that he wanted to marry. "You think she's with someone?" he asked calmly.

Albus turned to look at Wood, but the boy seemed too focused on the pages of the book that he was reading to look back at him. "I think we would know if she was with someone, wouldn't we?" he said flatly.

"I was thinking about her--"

Albus rolled his eyes. "You tell me!"

"--and I worked out that maybe she had a secret affair with your Slytherin friend," said Wood in a flat tone of voice.

Albus opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't find anything at all to say, so he closed it again. Rose and Scorpius? No, of course that was not possible. First of all they were always with him, he would have noticed, and secondly they would tell him. Why wouldn't they tell him? Did they think that he was jealous? He snorted. Surely he wasn't in love with his cousin, that was sick; and he didn't even take into consideration being anything close to love with Scorpius. Finally he decided to answer something to Wood, but it didn't come out as he had expected. "They aren't talking to each other," he said in a chocked voice.

"I know," replied Wood, "I think that they broke up."

Albus stared at the parchment in front of him. That would have explained an awful lot. James had discovered their secret affair and now he was depressed for not having been able to control her life as he liked to do with every member of his family; Scorpius and Rose broke up and now they weren't talking anymore; and Hugo, Lily and him had just been left behind in all this. Albus swallowed. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I thought you knew something," he replied simply. "You're always with them. I wanted to know if I'm a good guesser."

"Well, if they had an affair, they wouldn't tell me," he snapped sourly.

Wood sighed, turning a page. "What a pity," he said flatly, "well, I guess that you'll be the one that will have to discover that."

"What do you mean?" asked Albus, his eyes fixed on Wood's profile. "They aren't almost talking to me as well."

"Have I ever told you that I got your sister half drunk once?"

Albus' eyes seemed ready to pop out of his head and fall on Wood's shoulder. "You did what?"

"Oh well, actually they were just a couple of Butterbeers, but your sister doesn't exactly stand alcohol, does she?" he asked, grinning.

"I-I don't know, she never got drunk at home," stammered Albus. He looked at Wood with his eyes still wide. "You let her get drunk?"

"Well, I just offered her a couple of Butterbeers last year at Hogsmeade," he pointed out. "Anyway, it was quite interesting. She told me some of your most embarrassing secrets."

"You're joking."

"I know that you take your baths with a yellow little rubber duck sometimes, but she didn't manage to tell me what you needed it for, she was laughing too loudly," he said, shrugging.

Albus looked horrified.

Wood nodded. "Anyway, she even told me that you spend Christmas day with all your relatives, at the Burrow; it's your grandparents' house, isn't it?"

Albus nodded. He couldn't understand where he wanted to get that conversation.

"Well, that's perfect!" exclaimed Wood, unrolling a piece of parchment and starting to write the title of his essay. "You get your cousin drunk, just like I did with your sister, and she'll tell you anything about her relationship with Malfoy."

Albus frowned. "I don't think that it's very ethical, actually," he pointed out.

"Well, you can always live forever with the doubt that your two best friends had an affair at your back," Wood said simply. "Do as you please, but in the meantime… can I have a look at your essay?" He finally looked at Albus and smiled as if they were old friends.

Albus sighed, he grabbed a handful of parchments from his bag and shoved them under Wood's nose. "Don't know which one you wanted to see," he explained when he saw Wood's horrified look. "Just tell me something, why you like Rose so much?"

Wood smiled. "She's beautiful," he answered.

"Lots of girls are beautiful," replied Albus sensibly.

"Because from the very first day of school she had never come on to me, like all the other beautiful girls," he admitted, his voice low, "and because when she smiles it's like she knows something that nobody knows and that drives me crazy." He hummed silently before adding, "And she's smart."

"Really?" asked Albus, he had never considered her cousin under that prospective, but he had always wondered what made lots of boys of his age go numb in front of her. All he was sure of was that her cousin was as chaste and pure as a flower and he was proud of her.

"Yeah, that was my little dirty secret, Albus," said Wood, starting to shamelessly copying the essays. "Now I'll have to kill you," he added a bit too cheerfully.

Albus rolled his eyes, but he couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Well, do that after Christmas, because I have to discover a secret affair first," he replied, and lowering his eyes over his homework once again, he started to write down his last essay.

* * *

Hugo collapsed on the armchair near the fireplace, managing in his purpose of startling James. He sighed and directed his gaze on his cousin, his blue eyes wide on his freckled face, his hair a mess above his head.

James raised his eyes on him and frowned to see that little boy with such a determinate expression over his face. He looked back at him for a while, brown eyes locked with blue ones; eventually he raised his eyebrows and changed his face in an annoyed one. "What?" he asked.

Hugo shook his head softly. "Nothing," he replied quietly.

James nodded, he looked away, but after a while his eyes returned on him and found himself looking once again in Hugo's wide eyes. "What do you want, Hugo?" he asked.

"Nothing," he replied for the second time.

"Why are you here, then?"

Hugo shrugged.

"Don't you have friends with whom hang out? Homework to do? Stuff to pack for the holidays?" James asked hopefully.

Hugo faked to think hard. "No, no and no," he replied, grinning.

"Where's Lily?"

"I don't know," replied Hugo, "she's spending an awful lot of time with Rose lately."

James shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He didn't want to know what the girls were talking about, hopefully nothing too harmful for him; if it was anything about them two he knew that he would know it, because he was sure that Lily would have stomped in the common room and attacked him. He looked again at Hugo and rolled his eyes. "Then what do you want?"

"Nothing," replied Hugo for the third time.

"Okay, wrong question," muttered James. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Because I didn't have anything to do and I couldn't find any of my friends or cousins," he said simply. He brought a finger to his lips and tipped them softly. "And because it's a lot that we don't talk, isn't it?"

James smirked. "We never talk, midget," he pointed out.

Hugo didn't seem annoyed by this, he knew James fairly too well. "Yeah, I know," he replied thoughtfully, "but you were the first person I saw when I entered the common room, so I jumped at the chance to have a constructive talk with you."

"You talk like your mother," chuckled James.

Hugo shrugged. "Smart people talk alike."

James rolled his eyes. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?" he asked, snapping his book closed.

Hugo thought for a while. "What do you think Grandma Molly will cook for Christmas day this year?" he finally asked him.

James couldn't help smiling. "Pudding," he answered. "She always cooks pudding."

Hugo nodded. "I hope that there'll be potatoes," he said, "and naturally the pudding, you're right. What's a Christmas without Grandma Molly's pudding?" He sighed. "Anyway, Rose and I love potatoes, when we are at home, mum always has to cook potatoes twice a day."

James nodded stiffly. He knew that Rose loved potatoes, why did that little midget had to talk always about his sister? Couldn't he bring up a subject without mentioning Rose? "Lily and I love roast beef," he said without even knowing why, "and Albus likes beans."

Hugo looked away, his face screwed up with concentration. "What did you get Lily for Christmas?"

James raised his eyebrows startled by the sudden change of subject. "What?"

"Talking about food was making me hungry," he replied quietly.

James sighed. "A perfume," he said, and before Hugo could open his mouth he added, "and I got Albus a kit for keeping his broomstick clean."

"And Rose?"

James looked away and his expression became dreadfully serious. He didn't want to tell Hugo what he got Rose, that was personal matter, extremely personal, and plus what was the aim into telling him the present that he would have never given her? "Nothing," he lied.

"And when are you going to buy her something?" asked Hugo.

James took a deep breath. "I'll buy her a book the day after I'm back for the Christmas holidays, it won't take me more than five seconds to grab the first romance novel that I see in Flourish and Blotts," he replied, faking lack of interest in something that he had started to think about from the Christmas before.

"I got her a book as well," replied Hugo, then he grinned. "And what did you get me?"

"You'll see at Christmas," replied James.

Hugo pouted, but didn't say anything else on the matter. "Have you heard about the stealing in Professor Slughorn's office?" he asked instead.

James nodded. "I heard something, but I'm not quite sure what happened," he replied. "Did they find the guilt?"

Hugo shook his head. "No, not yet," he replied, "well, all I know is that it happened during one of his Slug Parties. At the end of the party, when he entered into the office, he found a few phials on the floor, some others in pieces and some others that were missing. Not much happened, the guilt stole a few phials containing all the same potion. Professor Slughorn said that the potion that had been stolen was fairly powerful. He wouldn't say what that was, though."

James nodded. "Maybe it was some love potion," he suggested, "and he was simply ashamed to let everybody know about it." He let out a chuckle and Hugo grinned.

It was good to see James laughing, Hugo thought, his cousin hadn't done that in quite a long time, and for a moment Hugo had been afraid that James had forgotten how to do it.

"What?" asked James, looking at Hugo's thoughtful expression and regaining his composure at the same time.

Hugo shook his head. "Nothing," he said, "I was just thinking that it's good to have big families." He sighed. "Did you know that my mum wanted another child after me?"

James frowned. "Really? I didn't know it."

Hugo nodded.

"And why didn't she…"

"She couldn't," he replied simply. He looked at James and shrugged. "Well, I think that I'm going to have lunch." He sighed. "I hope there'll be potatoes."

James nodded distractedly as Hugo stood up and walked away. Life was so unfair sometimes. People that wanted children didn't have them; and people that didn't want them… well… Life was really unfair sometimes.

* * *

Author's Notes 2!: So, well, what I really want you to read here is:

1. Has anybody seen "The Dangerous Lives of the Altar Boys"? Didn't that scene in chapter 7 looked exactly like that movie? Come on, let me know! (4 more info read chap 7 note)

2. Next chapter has already been written. It was a scene that haunted me since the beginning of this story, I hope you'll like it.

3. I have a terrible end in my mind for this story. It's really really dramatic, but since nobody seems to complain about that, well, get ready for some heartbreaking pieces.. Anyway, if you don't want to read an angty end, just write me a few ideas for a normal ending, and I won't absolutely assure you anything at all, but maybe, by reading them, I could have some ideas different from the ones that I have now. Maybe not, though.

4. Hope you have enjoyed this chapter, but even if you haven't, please review. Bye..


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Notes: He, he! Okay, so you read my ANs? That's really cool, because I thought that you were ignoring me.. He, he, your answers were just too lovely, and I'm sorry if I've doubted of you! So, well, thanks for answering me so far, that was really nice of yours. :)) I felt all warm and fuzzy. So I seriously think that I'm in love with my readers, I hope that you feel the same for me.. :)) About this chapter.. the last scene is the most important, the one that haunted me so badly, now that I wrote it down I've finally freed myself, but another one had taken its place. It's the final scene, the most dreadful one I think I'll ever write, I'm sure. I don't think that I would live happily ever after if I gifted this story with a happy ending. I'm sorry. So, I think you should be ready to buy a thousand cleenex, well, at least, I told you, aren't I nice? ;) Hey, will you review? And thanks so much for all your reviews.. A warm hug to all of you! I have two more exams this week, but I wanted to post this, so when everything will be over and on Saturday I'll be on line, I'll find your comments and will be happy:)

* * *

**Confrontations**

Rose was so frustrated she just wanted to scream and cry against anybody and anything in her house. Her parents had come to collect her and Hugo at King's Cross two days before, and, like every year, they had hugged her, caressed her hair, smiled and repeated how proud they were of her and her high marks.

But they had also crashed her stomach in between their bodies and haven't noticed anything. Rose had let out a sigh of relief at that time, but now she felt betrayed that something so important like her pregnancy had gone unnoticed to her parents.

Her Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny had come to pick up her cousins as well, and it had been a torture for Rose to stand there in front of James without even looking at him for minutes while her mother and her aunt dwelled on matters such as who had to bring the gingerbread at the Christmas party or when to go and buy the present for Grandma Molly.

But that was two days before, and she hadn't seen her cousins since that day. Now she was at home, with Hugo sleeping in the bedroom next to her and the Muggle neighbours that came to ask for some salt every now and then.

Her father would work until Christmas Eve, doing less hours than usually, naturally; while her mother had called the week off to stay with her children, being the head of an entire department was useful to something—other than help right laws to be voted.

Rose loved that time of the year, her mother cooked her and Hugo's favourite dishes, they went shopping in Diagon Alley and she and Hugo played Wizard Chess every evening with their father and Ron defeated them every single time, that was until Hermione joined them and she read from The Tales of Beedle the Bard or prepared some cocoa.

Until that moment, that year everything was still exactly the way it had always been, but little Rose knew that that was going to change, very soon.

* * *

"Rose, are you listening to me?"

Rose raised her eyes to meet those of her father and her blank expression melted slowly on her face as she became aware of the fact that he was talking to her. "What?" she asked softly, sinking her fork in her mother's meat pie.

"I asked you if you can pass me the salt," replied Ron, "five times I guess."

Rose sighed, she looked around herself and spotted the small salt cellar near her elbow. She grabbed it and stretched her arm towards her father.

"Thank you," said Ron, taking the salt cellar from her hand. He turned to look at Hermione, who was trying to convince Hugo into eating some salad. "What happened to you daughter, Hermione? She's always distracted lately."

Hermione didn't look up from Hugo's plate as she filled it with salad, but she smiled. "Why is she _my_ daughter when she does something odd?" she asked amused.

Ron grinned as well. "Well, Rose?" he asked, bringing some potatoes to his mouth.

Rose lowered her eyes. "Well, what?" she asked back.

"You aren't talking much in these days," replied Ron, "it's not something that suits you, I mean being so silent."

"Mum, that's enough!" complained Hugo, covering his plate with his hands.

"Your father's right Rose," said Hermione, placing the salad bowl on the table and finally looking up. "Is there anything that is upsetting you?"

Rose narrowed her eyes as she looked at her meat pie. "No," she replied stiffly, "nothing at all."

There was a moment of silence in which Rose hoped that they wouldn't ask her anything else, then Ron took a deep breath and turned towards Hermione. "I talked with Harry today," he said. "He wanted to know when you're free to go to Diagon Alley with Ginny, you know, for my mum's present."

Hermione helped herself with some salad and shrugged. "I'm always free in these days," she replied, "I just have to prepare the turkey for Christmas dinner, but I can do that on Christmas Eve."

Ron nodded. "I'll tell him," he replied. "Maybe you can go with them, Rose."

Rose sighed. "Is anybody else going?" she asked, trying to sound casually.

"Maybe Lily or Albus will come if you're coming as well," replied Hermione gently. "Maybe you can write them and ask what they want to come, I'm sure that it'll be less boring to wander for Diagon Alley with them rather than follow your Aunt and me in all the clothes shops we find on our way."

"I guess so," replied Rose. "Can I have some more potatoes?"

"Sure, Rose." Hermione handed her the frying pan. "Aren't they feeding you at Hogwarts?"

Rose shrugged slightly, but didn't reply anything. Luckily someone else spoke at her place.

"Mum, have I already told how beautiful you are this evening?" asked Hugo, looking at his untouched salad. "And how absolutely lovely is your hair?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Say it quickly and in the less painful way you can."

Hugo sighed. "Albus and James are getting new brooms for Christmas and I was thinking--"

"That's painful," said Ron, laughing.

Hermione sighed. "Hugo, we've already talked about what I think of Quidditch and broomsticks and stuff. Plus you live in a Muggle suburb, they would notice you if you were flying around the garden."

"I was thinking about the Burrow…"

Hermione stood up and collected some of the plates. "We'll talk about that," she replied, bringing the plates to the sink.

"But Christmas is in five days," protested Hugo, "you can't have time to buy one if we don't speak now."

"Well, who tells you that we've not already got you a broomstick for Christmas?"asked Hermione.

Hugo pouted. "You haven't," he said.

Ron laughed as he peeled an orange. "You think you know more than Father Christmas?"

"Oh, dad, grow up," said Hugo heatedly. "Mum…"

"I said we'll talk about that," answered Hermione in a tone of voice that didn't accept any reply. "And then, maybe, I'll talk to your Aunt Ginny."

Hugo's face lightened up. "Really?" he asked.

"Yes, but only if you eat all the salad you have in your plate," she replied firmly.

And with Ron and Hermione's great enjoyment Hugo devoured all the salad without even dress it.

* * *

A knock on her door made Rose jump and she almost let the thing she was holding fall. After a second of loss, she hurried to hide it back into her bedside table and said, "Come in." She sat on her bed and tried to look as casual as possible.

Hermione opened the door, holding carefully a big mug with one of the players of the Chudley Cannons zooming on it. She smiled and walked slowly towards Rose's bed. "I prepared you some camomile tea," she said, giving her the mug.

Rose smiled. "Thank you, mum," she said.

Hermione smiled back and sat on her bed. "You look odd, Rose," she said, "you've not been eating cucumbers, have you?"

Rose opened her mouth to answer, but something restrained her. Half of her brain was telling her to say that she had eaten cucumbers at Hogwarts, and that her behaviour was all her allergy fault; but the other half was screaming that she was her mother, that she couldn't have lied to her forever. Her first trimester was almost over, soon her stomach would have become the size of a Quaffle and then even bigger, until people would have looked at her and understood immediately what was going on. "I think there might have been some with the salad the last time I had dinner at Hogwarts," was what she finally let out.

"Have you been sick?"

Pretty much every morning since her second month. "Once, but it wasn't really much…"

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Hermione, looking severely at her. "Do you have a temperature?"

"No, mum," she reassured her. "I noticed that I was eating cucumbers and gave the salad to Albus." Surely her relationship with James had been helpful, she could lie almost as well as he did. "I'm fine, really."

Hermione smiled, partly reassured. "Maybe it's better if you don't come with me and Ginny to Diagon Alley."

"Mum, I'm fine," she replied, feeling strangely guilty of something. She sipped from the mug. "I like this camomile, where did you get it?"

"Grandma Molly gave it to me," she replied. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Rose nodded. "Did you really get Hugo a broomstick for Christmas?" she asked, looking at her mother.

Hermione couldn't hide a smile. "Not yet," she confessed, "I need to talk to Ginny first."

"So you really will buy him a broom?" asked Rose flabbergasted.

Hermione smiled. "He's tenacious, you have to give him that," she replied, "and your father and I can't really stand his lamentations anymore."

"But a broomstick…"

"Well, we can't get him anything less nonetheless," she replied, her smile becoming even wider, "we didn't want to make too much difference between your present and his."

Rose looked at her mother with her eyes wide. "Really?" she asked, her curiosity having the upper hand on her. "What did you get me?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Hermione laughed. "I'm not going to tell you, naturally," she replied, "all you need to know is that it's something that you really wanted."

Rose's eyes started to shine. If her mother would have asked her what she really wanted at that moment, all she could answer was James and her baby, no other answer came to her mind, so she really didn't have a clue. "Something that I really wanted…"

"Yes, Rose," replied Hermione, "your father and I have talked about that, and we have decided that you deserve something of nice."

Rose looked uneasy. "Do I?"

Hermione smiled warmly. "Yes, you do, we're very proud of you and your school marks, and the fact that you're a Prefect and everything else," she replied, "we're very proud of you indeed."

The camomile seemed to cut through Rose's throat as she swallowed it. She looked at her mother, completely lost of words and felt like she had deceived them with her faked innocence and transparency.

"Rose," Hermione called her, waving a hand in front of her. "Was my confession such a terrible shock?"

Rose forced a weak smile to appear on her face. "I guess I'm just tired," she replied, handing the mug back to her mother.

"Don't you want to play chess with your father?" asked Hermione. "He told Hugo that if he defeated him he would buy him the broom."

Rose smiled. "No, thank you, mum," she replied.

Hermione stood up, she bent over her daughter and kissed her forehead. "Hmm, you seem a bit hot," she said slowly.

"Mum, I'm fine, really," said Rose.

Hermione sighed, but smiled, she turned and walked towards the door. "Good night," she said, before closing the door at her back.

"Good night," murmured Rose from her bed.

* * *

"I guess that this dress wouldn't be your mum's cup of tea, right Ginny?" asked Hermione, grinning.

Ginny looked at the dress that Hermione was showing her and smiled. "I guess that it would be perfect if it was a bit shorter and maybe sleeveless, and brighter naturally."

Hermione put it back on the shelf. "Yeah, I guessed that too," she said, laughing.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Mum, can't you grab the first dress you see?" she asked annoyed. "I bet grandma won't be bothered if it's short or long, with or without sleeves."

Ginny sighed. "Lily, why you and Rose don't go and have a chocolate at the Leaky Cauldron?"she suggested to a very bored Lily. "I'm sure that it's going to be a long thing here."

"I don't have money," replied Lily eloquently.

Ginny faked an annoyed expression. "Two Galleons, and I want to see the change," she said, handing her daughter a couple of golden coins. "And wait for us there, okay?"

Lily snorted. "Mum, we aren't five," she said.

"Don't worry, Aunt Ginny," Rose broke in, grabbing her cousin's arm, "we'll stay there."

Ginny smiled. "Hermione, do you want to trade my daughter with yours?"

Lily stuck out her tongue to her mother, but Hermione hugged her niece and planted a big kiss on her forehead. "No, but you can trade her with Hugo," she joked.

"Oh, no," said Ginny, "I already have two, they are more than enough."

"Okay, well, if you've done with all this buying and selling, Rose and I are going to the Leaky Cauldron," said Lily, annoyed, and this time it was her the one that dragged Rose away.

"I think that Lily wasn't really too fond of being traded like that," laughed Hermione as their daughters walked away.

"No, she wasn't," replied Ginny. "I almost regret what I said," she added thoughtfully.

Hermione looked at her through a pile of sweaters. "She knew that you were joking," she reassured her.

"Oh yes, she knew," said Ginny, looking at a little red band that at first she had thought it was for hair, but then realized that it was a skirt and put it back down, horrified. "I simply want to avoid other problems with my kids."

Hermione looked at her through a transparent top. "What do you mean?"

Ginny shook her head. "It's James," she replied, "he isn't talking to us."

"Is he all right?" asked Hermione, showing Ginny a green shirt.

Ginny shook her head, both for the shirt and to answer Hermione's question. "I think that there's something that is upsetting him, but he wouldn't say."

"Have you asked him?"

"You know what Harry thinks about that," replied Ginny, sighing.

Hermione nodded. "That you don't have to force him into talk, if he doesn't want to." She sighed. "All the contrary of Ron."

"Yeah," replied Ginny, finally getting to the part of the shop where the clothes were all midnight blue, hence where it was more likely to find something that wouldn't have clashed too horribly with her mother's hair. "And the problem is that I'm exactly like Ron," she confessed, "I just would like my children to confide with Harry and I."

"The problem is that they are growing up so quickly," said Hermione, sighing.

"They are," agreed Ginny. Then she smiled. "On the other hand, I think we've found my mum's present." She raised a long elegant coat the colour of the starry night.

Hermione touched it to feel the material under her fingertips. "I like it," she agreed, "I like it a lot."

"Let's just hope that they'll have mum's size, although we can buy her that red skirt, and she can use it as a hair band," she said, grinning.

Hermione looked horrified. "That was a skirt?"

* * *

Rose looked attentively at the small box in her hands and swallowed. It was just so easy and in a second everything would have been over, definitely over. But she couldn't have done that without first knowing where her other option would have brought her. She closed the box and put it back in the bedside table.

She walked out of her room and placed an ear on Hugo's door, he was listening to some music from the computer that their Muggle grandparents had given him for his last birthday, it was high enough to let her talk to her mother without being overheard.

She climbed down the stairs, gripping the railing with much more force than it was really necessary and stepped slowly into the living room where her mother was wrapping her cousins' presents. She sat near her on the sofa and cleared her throat.

"Oh, someone came downstairs to help me," said Hermione, putting a big golden bow on a square package.

Rose smiled wearily.

"Will you wrap that Quaffle, paying attention to Viktor's signature?" Hermione asked her daughter.

Rose picked it up and looked at the scrawled signature. "Who's this for?"

"Uh? James," replied Hermione, choosing another still unwrapped present from a pile.

Rose felt her insiders melting as she started to roll the Quaffle on a red wrapping paper. She reckoned that it was better if she didn't think about him right at that moment, even if everything she did or saw reminded her of him. It was since the last day of school that she hadn't heard of him, but she couldn't not think at him at least once every day. "Did you get Hugo's broom at the end?" she asked her mother, her voice a bit too shaky for such a simple question.

Hermione's eyes darted to the stairs.

"Don't worry, he's listening to the music," she reassured her mother.

"Yes, we did," she whispered. "Your father went with your Aunt, don't ask me what kind of broom they bought, I really don't remember what he told me."

Rose nodded, knowing what her mother meant, very probably she wouldn't have remembered as well, even if James had spent so many nights caressing her hair and at the same time giving her theoretical Quidditch lessons. The Quaffle fell from her hands as she remembered the last time they had spent together on the Astronomy Tower, Quidditch wasn't one of the subjects they brought up then, but the James didn't seem to be displeased.

"Rose, Viktor is very busy lately, he won't be able to send us another Quaffle if you ruin that one," Hermione said sternly, picking up the Quaffle.

Rose nodded. "I'm sorry," she murmured, lowering her eyes. She felt her mother place the Quaffle on the sofa near her and then she was shifting next to her.

"Rose, is everything all right?" Hermione whispered, placing her hands on her daughter's shoulders.

Rose bit her bottom lip, nodding slightly, but then, before she could stop herself, she shook her head and crashed her face against her mother's shoulder, soaking her shirt with hot tears. "No, nothing is right," she cried. "Nothing is right, mum."

"What? Rose, talk to me," she urged her. "You know that you can tell me everything, don't you?"

Rose gripped her mother's shirt. "I did something terrible," she confessed against her mother's shoulder.

Hermione caressed her hair. "Something more terrible than when you crashed Albus' broom in the quarry of the Burrow and said that it was Hugo's fault?" asked Hermione, smiling encouragingly. "Or more terrible than when you've been ill for eating all the pudding by yourself?"

Rose gritted her teeth. Her mother thought she was cheering her with her sweet jokes, but, on the contrary, she was having the complete opposite result on her. Hermione was making her even more terrible than she would normally feel in an already stressing situation like that, and the fact that she was pregnant and consequently highly emotive didn't help at all. "It's worst," she sobbed, "ten times worst."

Hermione enlaced her fingers in her hair, so similar to hers, and pressed Rose's head in her shoulder. "You know that your father and I don't care about your marks," said Hermione, trying to think hard at what might upset her daughter so much.

"It's not my marks, mum," she sobbed.

"Then what is it?" asked Hermione, a slight agitation in her voice. "Rose, talk to me."

Rose swallowed some of her tears. "You have to promise me that you won't tell anybody," she whispered. She was still in time to keep her mouth shut or make up a lie, but maybe if she made her promise and her mother was the only person that knew it, it would be all right.

"How can it be so terrible?" asked Hermione, smiling.

"It can." She wiped away some tears and looked at her mother. "Promise me you won't tell even dad."

Hermione brushed hair away from Rose's face. "If that's what you want," she replied, smiling softly.

Rose nodded, sniffling. She attempted a weary smile to appear on her face and took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant," she finally whispered, but it was too quietly and Hermione didn't get it.

"What, Rose?" she asked, smiling and leaning closer to her.

"I'm pregnant," she said, raising her voice and sobbing once again. She did it, she couldn't go back now, she felt her mother's hands left her shoulders and fell on the sofa as she backed and looked at her with big brown eyes filled with astonishment.

Hermione opened her mouth, but when a voice reached Rose's ears, it wasn't her mother's.

"What?"

Rose jerked her head towards the door and her heart skipped a beat. Ron was standing there. His eyes looked like they were ready to fall off his face, he looked at Rose without even breathing, standing still like a wax statue, he was as white as the snow and his freckles stood on his skin like pools.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice reduced to an astonished hiss.

Rose gulped, her lips parted slightly and started to tremble, all the heat left her face and her hands, and her limbs went suddenly numb. She felt her heart starting to beat furiously, blood pulsing in her temples while her insiders suddenly disappeared.

"Dad, I…"

"What did you say?" he hissed again.

Rose turned to look at her mother, but Hermione sat there without finding even a word of comfort. "Mum…"

Hermione looked away from her.

Rose lowered her eyes. "I'm pregnant," she finally repeated. She heard her father step quickly towards her and then his big hands grabbed her arms and put her on her feet.

"How did you…" he commenced, without being able to end his sentence.

Rose gulped, trying to stand Ron's furious glare. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Ron ignored her. "Who is it?" he asked.

Rose's bottom lips started to quiver even more forcefully while tears fell down her cheeks.

"Who's the father?" asked Ron, shaking her.

"Ron," murmured Hermione from the sofa where she was still sitting, petrified by the shock.

Ron ignored her as well. "Who is it, Rose?" he screamed in his daughter's face.

"James," cried Rose, trying to free herself from her father's hands.

Ron seemed to think hard if he knew any boy at Hogwarts called James, and finally frowned slightly as he hissed, "James who?"

Rose was now crying without restraint. "James Potter," she stiffly let out.

Ron let her go and stepped back, looking at her as if she was dirty or as if he didn't know her at all, while Hermione let out a strangled cry of surprise.

Ron looked as if he was going to be sick. He placed his hand on the table and looked at her. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "He's your cousin."

Rose closed her fists until she felt her little nails dig into her palms. "I know," she whispered, sobbing.

"Hey, what's going on? I can't even listen to my music in peace if you keep on…" Hugo's sentence was left dangling in midair as he walked down the stairs and saw his parents' faces. They were shocked as if someone had died. He couldn't see Rose's face, but he was sure that she looked just like them. "What happened?" he asked, walking into the living room.

Ron brought a hand to his forehead. "Go to your room, Hugo," he said, trying to sound calm.

"No, I want to know what's going on, I'm always left out of--"

"Hugo!" yelled Ron, "I told you to go to your room!"

"Go, Hugo," agreed Hermione, nodding softly.

Hugo looked from his father to his mother, a mix of anger and frustration on his face, then he noticed that his sister's shoulders were shaken by sobs and reflexively took a step towards her.

Ron got hold of his arm before he could say anything to Rose, he dragged Hugo towards the stairs and pushed him on the first stairs. "Go to your room, Hugo!" he screamed one last time, before turning back to where he was.

Hugo gulped, he turned and walked quickly up the stairs. When he reached the landing, though, he didn't keep on walking to his room, but rested his head against the railing and tried to listen to what was going on in the living room instead.

"Are you out of your mind?" asked Ron, his voice sounding even more threateningly now that he was trying to stay calm.

Rose didn't answer.

"You know that he's your cousin, don't you?"

Rose sobbed, but still didn't answer.

"Did he force you?" Ron asked finally.

Rose raised his eyes on her father. "No," she hurried to say, "no."

Ron shook his head and kicked one of the armchairs, sending it rolling on the floor. "I can't believe you," he said. Then he walked towards her and slapped her face hard.

Rose staggered a little, but managed to stay on her feet. She gritted her teeth and, even if the pain was stinging, she ordered herself to restrain the tears that she wanted to shed.

Hermione stood up suddenly. "Ron," she said, placing a hand over Rose's shoulder.

"Hermione, stay out of this," hissed Ron.

Hermione looked outraged. "She's my daughter as much as yours," she complained.

Ron didn't look away from Rose. "Did you hear her?" he asked to Hermione. "Did you hear what she said, James Potter Junior is the father of her child." He finally looked at Hermione. "My sister's son."

"I know who he is," replied Hermione firmly.

"I wonder if Harry and Ginny know that they're becoming grandparents," he hissed.

Rose sniffled and sobbed, and Ron looked back at her. "You know what?" he asked. "We can check that right now, can't we?" He grabbed Rose's arm while Hermione tried to stop him, but that made Ron react more rudely than he had intended and Hermione was rolling on the floor at the same moment in which Ron and Rose Disapparated in front of her, leaving the living room in a sudden silence as Rose's screams were swallowed by the magic.

Hermione cried, she banged her fists on the rug under her and gripped the fur with so much force to torn away some of the threads. She stopped only when a little hand alighted on her back.

"Mum," called Hugo. "Where're dad and Rose?"

"To your Uncle and Aunt's place, I guess."

* * *

When Ron Apparated in Ginny and Harry's living room, he knew perfectly well that he was breaking one of the most important rules of Apparition etiquette, but he absolutely didn't give a damn at that moment. He let go of Rose, who fell on the closest couch, her face white with horror to find herself in James' house.

"Ginny! Harry!" called Ron angrily, without moving by his daughter's side, as if he was afraid that she could have ran away. "Harry! Ginny!"

Ginny appeared at the door that communicated with her kitchen. "Ron!" she exclaimed surprised, "you Apparated in my living room!"

Ron paid no attention to her. "Where's Harry?" he asked instead.

Ginny stepped in and finally spotted her niece; Rose seemed to be on the verge of tears on her couch and looked positively astonished. She cleaned her wet hands in a dishcloths and hurried at her niece's side, but Ron caught her before she could touch his daughter. "Where's Harry?" he asked her again.

Ginny looked at him without understanding. "In the garden," she replied, "but Ron, what's going on?"

"Call him," he said icily.

"Ron, just tell me, what--"

"Call him, Ginny!" he roared as he had done with Hugo a few moments before.

Ginny frowned. She walked towards the closest window, opened it and leaned out, calling Harry's name; when she got an answer she came back inside and looked at Ron. "Will you tell me what's up?" she asked to her brother.

Before Ron could answer her, Lily appeared at the same door where her mother had stepped out and looked curiously at the scene that was going in front of her, before she could say hi to her cousin, her father stepped in, shaking snow from his boots.

"Ron," Harry said, smiling as he spotted his brother-in-law in his living room. "What are you doing here?"He looked at Rose. "Hey, Rose."

Rose didn't answer, she didn't even raise her head as she kept on staring at the tiles on the floor.

"Right you, Potter," hissed Ron. "Where's your son?"

Rose let out a strangled cry, and the Potters' heads turned towards her, but Ron attracted their attention on him once again. "Where's your son?" he asked again.

Harry tried to smile, despite the insignificant fact that he didn't have a clue about what was going on. "Ron, is everything all right?" he asked.

"Yes, it is," he replied icily, "just tell me where's your son, Harry."

"Ron, you don't seem exactly as you were a hour ago when I left you at the Ministry," said Harry, walking towards him.

"Really?" asked Ron. "I wonder why." He looked at Harry with hatred. "Where's your son?"

"Ron, why do you--"

"Where's your son, Potter?" yelled Ron, causing Lily to jump.

"Which one?" Ginny screamed back, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Which one, Ron? We have two remember?"

Ron glared at her. "James," he hissed.

Harry looked at Ginny, who answered, "Upstairs with Albus."

"Call him, here," ordered Ron. "Call him or I'll go and get him, and it won't be pleasant."

"Ron, have you been hit by a Bludger?" asked Ginny venomously.

"It's all right, Ginny," said Harry, "I'm sure that Ron has a very good explanation for his behaviour." He walked towards the stairs and called his son's name.

A door opened upstairs and James appeared on the stairs, followed closely by Albus. The older boy looked at his uncle and then spotted Rose, and all his colour drained from his face. He stopped on the stairs and gazed at Ron who glared back at him as if he was a piece of filth, and in less than five seconds he understood what was going on.

"Come on, James," said Harry, smiling reassuringly and gesturing him to reach them, "your Uncle Ron wants to talk to us."

James walked down the last stairs, but around him his house seemed to blur away while his head started to ache. He walked up to the first armchair he met and stood by it.

"Oh, please, Potter," said Ron, in a disdainful voice, "sit down next to Rose." He gestured towards the couch, where Rose seemed to quiver even more forcefully than before.

James looked at his father and when Harry nodded, he gulped and walked up to the couch, shaking as he passed by Ron. He collapsed next to Rose, but he didn't look at her, and she surely didn't look up at him.

"Send the other two upstairs," said Ron, his voice once again terribly serious.

"What?" asked Albus crossly. "Rose's here, I want to hear as well!"

Ron glared at him dangerously, but Albus, being in the dark about what was going on, didn't run away as he should have done.

"Albus, Lily, go upstairs," said Harry, looking at Ron.

"Oh, no, mum, please, can we stay?" Lily asked.

Ginny looked at Harry, who shook his head firmly. "No," she said," go upstairs."

Albus and Lily walked towards the stairs, glaring at an unaware Ron, who had eyes only for James and Rose at that moment. They walked up the stairs, but, just like Hugo, they stopped on the first landing and held their breaths to listen.

Ginny sat on an armchair. "Will you tell us what's going on, Ron?" she asked slowly.

Ron looked at her and smiled a creepy smile. "Of course I will, Ginny," he replied in a false sweet tone, "Rose's pregnant." He said it so bluntly that it took Harry and Ginny quite a lot to let the words sink in their brains, but when they did, Harry's eyes shifted from Ron to Rose. "What?" he asked, using the same exact tone Ron had used when he had overheard Rose and Hermione.

Ginny brought both her hands to her mouth. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Is it true?" asked Harry.

Ron nodded. "Of course, it is," he replied. Then he patted his forehead theatrically. "Oh, and I almost forgot to ask you, how far are you, Rose?"

Rose sobbed loudly, but she didn't raised her head nor she replied to her father.

"I'm talking to you, Rose Weasley," hissed Ron, walking menacingly towards her and raising a hand to hit her again.

"Three months," she replied before he could lower the hand on her.

Ron smiled. "Three months, so, let me see…" He counted on his fingers. "It's due to June, isn't it?"

Rose sobbed again, hiding her face in her hands.

"Isn't it, Rose?" asked Ron, gripping her hair to make her look at him.

"Yes, it is," she screamed, freeing her from her father, some of her hairs leaving her head as she did so.

"Ron," Ginny called him, standing up and walking towards him. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" he snorted. "Calm down? I'm not calming down, Ginny."

"Who's the father?"asked Harry, he looked at Ron as if he was afraid of the answer. Half of him wanted to stubbornly ignore the fact that Ron had asked for James and only James to be present, his other half was trying to make him see the light.

Ron turned towards Harry. "Oh," he said, "so our gentleman here hadn't broken the news with you yet, had he?"

Ginny's eyes darted to James, who was looking at his uncle as if Ron was going to execute him. "What news?" she asked, swallowing.

"James is the father," snapped Ron, nodding sharply towards his nephew.

Harry smiled incredulously, and for a moment the fact that Ron was going mad flashed in his brain. But when he looked at James he knew that his best-friend was just telling them a dreadful truth. "What are you talking about?" asked Harry.

"You want a drawing, Harry?" Ron looked at him with his eyes narrowed. "What don't you get?"

Nothing followed that question but a knock on the door. And as the people in the house woke up from their reverie, Hermione's voice reached them from the porch. "Harry! Ginny!" she called, banging her fists on the door.

Harry went to open the door and Hermione walked in, her eyes puffy and her hair in a mess. She looked at Harry, who glanced briefly at her and quickly gestured her to enter, then she looked at Ron, Ginny and finally at Rose and James. "Did you tell them?" she asked Ron, her voice low.

Ron nodded. "Yes, I did," he replied icily. "Don't you see their faces?"

"Ron, you must be kidding us," said Harry, trying to stay calm. "James and Rose, they are… they would never do something like that." He looked towards the couch, but both James and Rose weren't looking at him. "They know that they are first cousins."

"Oh, of course they know," muttered Ron. He took one of the cushions on the couch and threw it at James. "What were you thinking? That we would have never discovered you?"

James looked away, his face dark. He didn't want to give his uncle the satisfaction of answering and hearing his quivering voice.

"But you haven't discovered us, dad," said Rose, finally raising her eyes to fiercely look at Ron.

Ron looked back at her, his eyebrows raised. "No, Rose, of course not," he said cold-heartedly, "because we wouldn't have noticed your belly during the Easter holidays and your baby crying in the night."

Rose stood up to bravely face her father. "Oh, sure," she hissed, her cheeks streamed with tears, "you think that it was just once, don't you, dad?" she asked, and everybody felt like they wouldn't have liked what was coming next. "Well, I have something to tell you, it's two years that we are together and you never noticed anything!"

James closed his eyes, his complexion a vague greenish colour. He felt like every word they were saying was cheerfully stabbing his chest.

Ron too was even paler than before. "You shut up, Rose Weasley," he said, waving a finger in front of her nose, "although I swear that you won't get back to Hogwarts ever again."

Rose fought back the tears as she yelled, "I don't care." But she didn't even manage to finish those three words that her father's hand hit her cheek for the second time, this time sending her collapsing back on the sofa.

"I told you to shut up," said Ron, his hand shaking, "you'll talk when I'll ask you something."

Rose lowered her head her hair falling down to cover her face. She brought a hand to her cheek and felt it hot and stinging. She felt James' hand sneaking on her back and resting near her kidneys, but she shook him off. "Thanks for your help," she hissed angrily, without even looking at him.

"Ron," cried Ginny, "calm down!" She seemed as nervous as he was, but looking at his brother beating his daughter was making her even more stressed.

Ron turned towards her. "I'm not calming down, Ginny," he hissed, "and don't tell me to calm down, I don't want to."

"And you don't talk to me like that!" she shrieked.

Harry walked between them and looked severely at Ginny before turning towards James and Rose. "Two years ago you were just fourteen," he said astonished, as if he had noticed that only at that moment.

James and Rose didn't move, they were just barely breathing actually.

"What got into you?" he asked again. He was calmer than Ron, but from his voice they understood that certainly he wasn't less angry. "I hope you understand that you did a great mess."

The young couple remained silent.

"You're not going anywhere, Harry," said Ron, "they think they are acting fairly." He looked at Rose and lowered his face to her. "You've been two years together? So you've planned this out, haven't you?" He narrowed his eyes. "Just to randomly ruin a bunch of people's lives."

Rose burst into tears again, all her body shaken by her sobs and sniffles.

"Ron," murmured Hermione, "let her alone for five minutes."

"Hermione, Rose's going to have a baby, don't ask me to let her alone," snapped Ron.

"Just shut up for a minute, then!" cried Ginny.

Ron glared at her. "You stay out of this, Ginny."

"What? How dare you?" hissed Ginny. "You Apparate in our living room and start to scream and give orders to everybody, you think you're the only one who is upset here?"

Ron turned his back to her and closed the brief distance that divided him from Rose, he grabbed his daughter's arm and put her on her feet, pulling him towards her. He glared at James and before anybody could stop him, they were gone without a further word for the second time.

Ginny collapsed on the armchair and hid her face in her hands.

"Mum," whispered James, talking for the first time.

Ginny raised her eyes on him, looking coldly at her firstborn. "Go to your bedroom, James," she ordered.

James lowered his eyes and stood up, he looked at his father, but Harry looked back at him even more grimly than Ginny had done. James' eyes shifted on his Aunt, but she seemed even more disrupted than he was, so he came back to look at his mother. "Mum, I'm sorry…"

"James, go to your room!" repeated Ginny, waving her hands around her face.

James gulped and walked away, his face the one of a boy that has just been told that he was going to be abandoned by his parents because they didn't love him anymore. He climbed up the stairs and passed by his shocked siblings without even seeing them.

When Harry, Ginny and Hermione heard the door of his room closing, they finally let out the breath that they didn't know they were holding. Hermione let even out a sob and collapsed on one of the chairs that were around the beautiful ebony table near the chimney, she brought her hands to her face and started to sob freely.

Harry looked at her, but he didn't move, he simply shook his head. Ginny, on the contrary, stood up and walked towards her, she sat down at the table opposite to her and placed a hand on Hermione's arm. Hermione raised her eyes and looked at her, while Ginny attempted a weary smile.

Hermione sobbed and smiled at the same time, and then Ginny's hands went to hers and she squeezed them in her own palms.

"What are we going to do?" asked Hermione, sniffling.

"I don't know," replied Ginny, still smiling softly, "but if you're asking me it isn't a good sign, is it?"

Hermione let out a soft laugh filled with sorrow. "No, I guess not," she answered.

Ginny sighed. Last time she had held Hermione's hands like that it had been seventeen years before. Ginny remembered it well, she had just discovered to be pregnant with Albus, and a June morning she had broken the news with Hermione and Ron. They had seemed happy to hear that she was already waiting her second child while James was still a baby, and when Hermione had spilled her tea all over the table Ginny had thought that it was just excitement.

But when she had got back home that evening, she was more than surprised to find Hermione banging at her door a couple of minutes later, and she had been dazed to find her in tears, her eyes puffy and her cheeks wet. Ginny remembered holding her hands as Hermione confessed that it was more than a couple of years that she and Ron tried to have a baby and that she simply didn't manage to get pregnant. Ginny remembered her tone of voice as Hermione asked if she thought that there was something wrong with her, she remembered Hermione asking her what she could have done, and she remembered herself having said that she didn't know.

Two days later she would have showed up to Hermione and Ron's door, holding an old book that had been property of her mother and of the mother of her mother before her, and so on for many generations. Ginny remembered to have told Hermione that she didn't believe it, but that they could have tried out the ancient rite of fertility at page twelve.

Ginny remembered running naked with Hermione in the quarry behind the Burrow two days later, she remembered dancing in circle with her under the full moon and remembered swimming in the pond at midnight. And Ginny remembered that a month later Hermione was crying again in her living room, her tears broken by hugs and kisses. Ginny remembered Hermione's voice when she told her that she was pregnant with Rose, and she remembered Ron's face while he hugged her.

"I think I'm going home," said Hermione, wiping away her tears.

Ginny looked at her as if she had just woken up of a daydream. She nodded.

Hermione nodded back, she stood up and staggered a little.

"Are you sure you can Apparate, Hermione?" asked Harry, walking at her side. "You don't seem exactly well."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I can do it, thank you, Harry," she replied. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her house, but nothing happened. She opened her eyes again and saw that Harry and Ginny were looking back at her with a concerned expression.

"Use the Floo Powder," suggested Harry.

Hermione sighed, she nodded and walked slowly towards the fireplace and in a moment she was gone between green flames.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Notes: I really love you, readers and reviewers.. I really, really do.. And I'm also quite happy, because my exams are going very well so far (I still have one to go, before I'm back with lessons and lessons and lessons..)! Anyway, let me think at something intelligent to write in this AN.. Oh yep, this chapter is just to show how everybody is taking the news, not well indeed.. And there's also a piece with Molly which I started at the end of the flashes and wanted to finish it somewhere, someone noticed it, I hope that you won't kill me for my version of the Weasley's family story. Hmm.. Nothing else to say, except that soon the lovers will be reunited again, for a while at least.. Anyway, this Thursday I should be back home, and have more time to stay on line and answer your reviews and post new chapter(s). Have a lovely time reading this short chappie! Kisses and Hugs! -- Luv you so much..

* * *

**Consequences**

Harry took a deep breath and knocked on James' bedroom's door. He had decided to talk to him alone, without Ginny or Ron or anybody else, and he wanted to listen very carefully to him. He was still sure that there was a simple, rational explanation to what had happened so far.

Some noises on the other side of the door told Harry that James had jumped down the bed where he was lying and was now walking towards the door. When the boy opened it and found his father standing in the corridor, he darkened slightly, moving back to make some room for Harry to enter.

Harry walked in and once he was inside, James closed the door at their backs and leaned against it. "What do you want, dad?" he asked, trying to keep his voice flat.

Harry turned to look at him and crossed his arms on his chest. "Talk," he replied firmly.

James looked away from him and snorted. "What do you want to talk about? I think that Uncle Ron had already said quite a lot, hadn't he?" he hissed.

Harry looked at him, shaking his head slightly. "Don't you dare blame your uncle for his reaction," he snapped, "he had all the rights to act that way."

"He hit Rose," retorted James heatedly, looking again at Harry.

Harry took a deep breath. "James, maybe you don't understand the gravity of what you and Rose did," he said animatedly, "let alone that she's your cousin; you two are going to have a baby."

James looked away, his face darkening even more. He knew perfectly well how serious the situation was, but what did his father want? Did Harry want James to punish himself for his mistakes? "I know that," the boy said icily.

Harry threw up his hands. "And does it look like it's something good to you?" he asked bitterly.

James looked back at his father. "And what do you suggest, dad?" he asked coldly. "Punish me for my what I did or kick me out of his house?" He shook his head. "Whatever it is, I don't care."He closed his fists. "As long as you don't do anything to Rose."

Harry shook his head. "You think it's so easy, don't you?" snapped Harry. "You think this is just one of those things you do, and then your mother and I punish you and a couple of days later everything is like it was before, don't you?" He looked at James, his eyes burning. "It's not like that James, if we punish you or kick you out of this house, how will that help you? Your mother and I can teach you that push Lily in the pond is not right, we can teach you that put spiders in Albus' soup is something which you mustn't do; but we cannot teach you that have a baby with your cousin before you're even out of school is not right, because even if we told you what good would we bring you? You've already done that, and you cannot go back."

James bit his bottom lip. "You're right, dad, we did a mistake, and we cannot go back, so what's the matter with telling me all those things?" he asked coldly.

"James, you don't really get it, do you?" asked Harry heatedly. "You're going to be a father."

"And what do you want me to tell you, dad?" barked James. "I don't know what you want from me."

Harry looked at him, taken aback. He didn't know what he wanted from him as well, if he had to frank with himself. He was angry with him, very angry, but he knew perfectly well that there was no way to go back. Even if Ron forced Rose to have an abortion, it wouldn't have made their fault less terrible. They had been together in an incestuous relationship, and nothing would have changed that. But Harry couldn't have not answered him, because that was like agreeing with him that there was nothing left to do and therefore there was no need to rub salt into the wound. "I want you to understand how terrible your act is," he said eventually.

"I know, don't worry, I know," answered James sulkily.

"Really? Because from your behaviour it really doesn't look like that," snapped Harry.

James looked away from Harry. "What do you want me to say? That if I could go back I would have never loved Rose the way I loved her?" he asked softly, almost to himself. "Well, I'm sorry, but I can't." He sighed. "She's everything to me, and I was just too stupid to notice that only the moment I lost her."

Harry tilted his head. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"We broke up," he explained, "when she told me that she was pregnant, we quarrelled and then I left her."

"Why?" asked Harry uneasily. It was the first time that James talked with him about such personal matters; it was strange for Harry, who was used to hear only discourses about Quidditch and broomsticks from him. Actually, Harry had never suspected that his first son had a love life, and Harry was sure that if James was with someone he would have never talked to him about it, he was far too reserved for that.

"Because I asked her to terminate the pregnancy and she said no," he replied stiffly. He finally looked back at his father. "Don't think that we didn't know that it was such a terrible thing that we were doing, although we wouldn't have kept it so secret in all these years."

Harry looked away from him. "That's the first sensible thing you say since this afternoon," he murmured, "at least you know that you did something wrong."

James snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, whatever," he replied simply.

Harry rolled his eyes, he fought the urge of slapping James for his impudence and his face hardened. "You are not allowed out of this room until the day you are meant to go back to Hogwarts," stated Harry.

James looked again at him. "I want to see Rose," he said briskly.

Harry shook his head. "Consider yourself lucky if your Uncle Ron doesn't kick her out of his house," he replied, "and I don't think that, even if I let you see her, Ron would ever agree to allow you two meet."

James looked at his father through narrowed eyes. "You can't force us apart," he said.

Harry turned towards the door and pushed it open. "We can and we will, James," he answered. "At least, until we have decided what to do." He walked out and banged the door at his back, then the lock caught twice and only when his steps had faded away on the stairs, James let out a frustrated cry and, grasping the first thing he found, he sent a book against the wall.

Why was he so angry? He didn't know. When Rose had told him that she was pregnant, he had left her, made himself believe that he didn't love her, that he could live perfectly well without her, that she had always been just his toy; but that was all a big fat lie. Now that he had lost her, James suddenly understood that she was everything to him, and for a moment the possibility that they might take her from him cut the air off his lungs.

James closed his fists and punched the wardrobe. He didn't care if his father forbade him to see her, he had to meet her one last time at least, clarify things with her, ask her to forgive him. They could as well kill him for breaking those rules, he didn't care. He was death anyhow if he didn't see her.

* * *

Ron put his hands on the sink edges and arched his back, inhaling deeply. What had happened the day before was just a dream or was it reality? To that answered his stomach, which rumbled so strongly that it reminded him that he hadn't had dinner the day before, and only something as upsetting as discovering that his daughter was pregnant with her cousin's child would have made him skip dinner.

He raised his eyes and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was pale, his eyes were ringed darkly and his pupils were almost red for the sleep that hadn't been enough that night. His hair looked very much like that of Harry, for it was as if he had never combed it.

Ron opened the tap and cocked his hands under the frozen water, splashing it all over his face. He felt it slide down his cheeks and neck and didn't care when some drops slipped under his pyjamas. He would have taken a shower if his stomach weren't menacing to tear down the window glass with all its protests. Ron sunk his head into the towel and brushed forcefully away the water, a minute later he was walking out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

Hermione had been there when he had gotten up, but now she was gone. Ron sat down on her side of the bed and touched the sheets, they were still warm with her body heat. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, her scent still lingered amongst the blankets. He stood up and walked out of the bedroom, and, as soon as he was climbing down the stairs, he could hear noises of plates and frying pans, and smell of bacon and toasts coming from the kitchen.

He crossed the living room with measured steps, not too quick, not too slow, and pushed the door of the kitchen open. Hermione was there, her curly hair combed in a loosen ponytail on her head, her thin body wrapped in a peachy dressing gown, she was frying the bacon, toast the toasts, cooking the eggs and brewing the tea all at the same time.

Ron's first impulse was to hurry at her side, move away her hair from her neck, kiss her under her ear, where she was more sensitive, and maybe throw her on the breakfast table before Hugo came down to reclaim his breakfast. Instead, he looked away from her and his eyes wandered for the kitchen. The table was prepared for three people, but there was a tray in the place setting that was Rose's, with a glass of milk and some toasts and butter already on it.

Ron swallowed and, walking towards the table, he sat down on his chair. "Good morning," he said more stiffly than he had intended.

Hermione turned to look at him, her face remained serious, but her eyes shone for a second. "Good morning, Ron," she murmured back.

Ron took a deep breath. He didn't want to do that, because that would have surely caused a quarrel between him and Hermione, but he was the head of the family and wanted to have everything under control that situation. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Getting the breakfast ready," she answered slowly.

"I can see that," replied Ron, "but what's this?" He nodded towards the tray and crossed his arms on his chest.

Hermione inhaled deeply. "Rose's breakfast," she replied, "I supposed she's not allowed out of her room."

Ron nodded. "And she's not allowed to eat either."

Hermione turned her back to him and extinguished the fire under the frying pan that was sending the bacon on fire. "Ron," she said emphasizing his name, "she didn't have dinner yesterday evening."

"And she's not going to have breakfast as well," he retorted.

"You can't let her starving," said Hermione, turning once again to serve him with the bacon, "she's pregnant."

"Hermione, that's exactly why I'll let her starving," replied Ron harshly.

"What do you want? See if she loses the baby?" asked Hermione coldly.

"I want to punish her, Hermione," said Ron, glaring at her.

"You can punish her in thousands of ways that I'll support, but if you don't feed her, Ron, she's going to lose the baby. Is that what you want?" asked Hermione. She sighed and shook her head, and without waiting for his answer she continued, "I won't let you do it."

Ron shook his head. "I don't care if she has this baby or not, Hermione," he informed, "the baby is just a consequence of what she did, and what she did is the most important thing. She cannot go back and I really can't understand if I'm angrier because she got pregnant or because the boy she had been with is her cousin. I just know that right now I cannot think about forgiving her."

Hermione sighed. "I know what you feel, Ron," she confessed, "I'm angry too, but we can't segregate her in her bedroom and let her die of hunger."

Ron looked at her. "We are her parents," he said, "we can do anything, she's not even on age."

Hermione looked away, bracing herself and shivering. "I'll bring her lunch with or without your permission," she murmured.

Ron considered that for a moment and then he nodded stiffly. He cut his bacon and brought it to his mouth, but suddenly he understood that he wasn't hungry at all, and put it back on the plate. When he stood up Hermione looked at him with a concerned expression over her face, but she didn't say anything as he walked away, disappearing out of the kitchen.

* * *

When Molly's eyelids fluttered open the first thing she saw was Arthur's worried face, his face was bending over her and his palms were patting her wrists gently. "Are you all right, Molly?" he asked urgently.

Molly looked a bit around herself before answering. What had happened? She had gotten up that morning, and like every morning she had prepared some breakfast for her and Arthur. Then she had started to cook and bake for the Christmas party that was coming up in two days, when Ginny and Harry's owl had arrived with a letter.

Oh! The letter! It was terrible. It was so terrible that before fainting, for a spare second, Molly Weasley had firmly believed that it was all just a nightmare. A terrible nightmare that brought some of her worst fears to reality. But then she understood that it wasn't a dreadful fantasy at all, on the contrary, it was the terrible truth that she had to face. So fainting had seemed the best thing to do at that moment.

"Oh, Arthur," she said feebly, "did you read it?" She raised the hand that held the letter Ginny had sent her, her fingers were so tightly clenched around it that her knuckles were all white.

Arthur Weasley nodded. He looked worried, but half of his concern was for his wife who hadn't reacted so badly to a news since the day Hugo had caught the Muggle flue when he was three and his other grandparents had insisted to bring him to a Muggle hospital. "I read it, Molly," replied Arthur slowly.

Molly sat up with a great effort, and Arthur helped her. "I told you that they were too close, didn't I?" she asked urgently. "I wrote Ginny and Ron those letters, why on Earth I didn't send them?"

Arthur sighed. "Molly, nobody could have ever imagined that they would have gone so far, not even you," he said softly.

Molly let out a groan. "Oh, Arthur, they grew up under this roof like siblings, what have we done wrong?" she whispered.

"Nothing, Molly," he reassured her, "I believe, we raised them like all our grandchildren." Arthur sighed and sat down next to Molly as she sat straighter.

"Then, what happened?" asked Molly discouraged.

Arthur looked at her from behind his spectacles. "I don't know."

Molly closed her weary eyes for a moment, trying to understand what was going on in her life. Never, since the days of Voldemort, she had felt so worried for one of her family members and she could only imagine what had been Ron's reaction to the news, knowing his point of view on matters like his children's relationships. "I want to lie down a little, Arthur," murmured Molly.

Arthur looked at her, his blue eyes wide. "You want me to bring you something, Molly? A cup of tea, perhaps?"

Molly shook her head, her white curls waving softly around her face. "No, Arthur, I need to get some rest." She stood up, gripping the armrest with both her hands for support, and staggered a little while she took some steps towards the stairs.

"Molly, do you want me to help you climbing the stairs?"

"No, thank you," she replied softly, without even turning to look at Arthur. She climbed up the stairs a step after the other in such a slow pace that the tic-tac of the Grandfather's clock seemed to go even faster than her movements.

The railing, the stairs, the carpet, the door, the bed, the pillows, the drawer, the socks box, the letters. Everything was real and dreamlike at the same time, later that day Molly wouldn't remember taking the letters she hid in the socks box at the bottom of her drawer, or reading them, but she did.

They were love letters, all signed with the same name, William Prewett, and all addressed to the same person, Molly Prewett. They told their story, a story of love and passion and obsession, a story lasted less than a couple of years, and brought to a sudden end by the death of William. They were cousins, first cousins, and they were meant to marry, because at that time the Wizarding families wanted to keep marriages in their families, and so a contract was made even before they were on age.

But two days before Molly's eighteenth birthday, William got sick and died, and all the world turned upside down for the seventeen-year-old girl too in love to believe that she would ever fall for someone else.

Molly and Rose, William and James. The more she thought of them, the more their outlines blurred, and Molly didn't understand anymore what was past and what was present, what had happened and what was happening. All she could have been sure of was that she couldn't have ignored the dreadful foreboding that was growing in her heart; history always repeated itself.

* * *

Victoire's jaw dropped, she looked at her Aunt without even understanding if she heard right, or if she had just imagined things; but Hermione seemed deadly serious, and Victoire's doubts dissolved as quickly as they had appeared. "Aunt, what are you talking about?" she asked. Her son, Charlie, gripped her silvery hair and pulled at it, trying to attract his mother's attention, as an answer Victoire hushed him distractedly. "I mean, Rose is not the kind of girl that would get pregnant, and with James… are you sure?"

Hermione placed a pot of tea on the table and looked at Victoire with the same harsh expression that she had been wearing for the last few days. "Yes, we are sure," she replied, "your uncle forced her to do a pregnancy test after we punished her. It was positive."

Victoire swallowed. "And what about James?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders slightly. "They confessed, both of them," she said flatly, "he is the father."

Victoire raised her eyebrows. "You're not taking it very well, are you?" she dared to ask.

Hermione sat across from her, her face on her palms. "No, we aren't. Nobody is," she replied.

Victoire bit her bottom lip. "Can I see Rose?"

Hermione smiled softly and shook her head. "She's not allowed out of her bedroom, and nobody is permitted inside."

"Who says?"

"Her father and I."

Victoire looked away. "And James?"

"I don't think that he's allowed out of his room as well, but I haven't talked to Ginny and Harry since the day Rose broke the news with us," she replied slowly.

Charlie patted her mother's cheek and called his mummy insistently, but Victoire still didn't pay him any attention, she just moved her face away and told her son to be quiet in an annoyed way. "And what are you planning to do?" she asked evenly.

Hermione shrugged again. "We don't know, yet," she answered, "for now we've just decided to keep them locked in their own rooms, but we don't know what it will be when they'll have to go back to Hogwarts or once the baby will be born." She poured some tea in a cup and offered it to Victoire.

"Thanks," said Victoire, taking it.

Hermione smiled, then she looked at Charlie. "I think that Rose wants it to be a girl," she said, "not that we talked about it, but I heard her speaking to the baby." Hermione sighed. "She addressed to it as a girl."

Victoire furrowed her brow. "When are you going to let them out?"

"And do what? Let them build their life together like a normal couple?" asked Hermione, massaging her temples, "they are not a normal couple, they'll never be."

Victoire inhaled deeply. "I remember I have studied the lives of Merlin and Morgan at school…"

"I studied that too," replied Hermione quietly, "but Morgan le Fay and King Arthur weren't cousins."

Victoire shook her head. "They were half-siblings and they had a child," she said.

"You tell Ron, Victoire," said Hermione, snorting softly. "Nobody here wants to listen to anything at all, not even me." She sighed. "No more." She stood up, her cup still empty and clean. "You better go, Victoire."

Victoire looked at her aunt with her beautiful eyes wide. "Teddy and I have your Christmas presents at home," she murmured.

"There are so many Christmases that still have to come," she said, "you'll surely find the right time for the presents, soon or later."

"But this Christmas won't be the same without half of the family," sighed Victoire.

"Nothing is the same anymore," whispered Hermione, "you really better go, Victoire."

Victoire stood up, she hugged Charlie and whispered to him to say goodbye to his aunt, he did and Hermione smiled as she waved her hand. And then Victoire and Charlie walked out of the door and into the garden, back to their house and keen to talk to Teddy and see his face when he was going to know about Rose and James.

* * *

Author's Notes: Why I named Victoire and Teddy's son Charlie and not Remus as J.K.R. would surely do? That's easily said: first of all because I don't like when grandchildren have the same names of their grandparents or anybody else in the family, is something that I can't really stand and that unluckily J.K.R. seems to love.. Secondly, because I wasn't in the right mood for writing this story last evening, and so I watched the last episode of Lost's third season which I love (is it just me or in that series every boy is just too handsome to be real?), and which ends quite badly for my fave character (I'm not spoiling anything, am I?), so I decided to call the baby Charlie in honour of Charlie Pace.. :) Luv that boy.. Oh, yep! And naturally you noticed that I called Molly's lost lover William and that Bill, her firstborn, is a nickname for William, didn't you:)


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Notes: Okay, it took me forever to upload this chapter. I had to logout and login before I managed to upload this. Anyway, sorry for the delay with this, but I was concentrating on my exams and now that they are finally over I'm the happiest girl on Earth. Anyway, today is my first day of lessons.. the second semester has already begun. Uff.. No, okay, I'm joking, I wanted to start my lessons.. I'm going to take two courses in English Literature in this semester, but none on Shakespeare.. Sighs..

Enough with blah, blah, blah, let's talk about this chapter! For the first time I put something in Italian in one of my stories. I hate when other writers write small sentences in Italian in their fan-fictions, because usually they don't know how to spell words or they don't know grammar, but it was funny to write two words in my language and have James behave like that (I mean that he doesn't know what they mean when for me the meaning is perfectly clear!)! Eh, eh.. :) I know, that's stupid.. Oh, damn! This stupid site is giving me problems once again.. Anyway, I know that this chapter is sad, but don't worry, the next ones will be even worse! Have a nice day and let me know what you think!

* * *

**Such Hard Decisions**

James pocketed his wand and the box he had stared at for the past few hours, and closed his eyes. It wasn't the first time that he Apparated since he had gotten his license, but it was the first time he was so troubled before an apparition. He remembered his father telling him that he hated to Apparate, and that he would have never wanted to do it, not even the less dramatic side along apparition. James didn't like to Apparate as well, but he really didn't know any other way to get where he wanted.

He shut his eyes even tighter, his eyelids almost hurting him as he squeezed his eyes in the skull, and thought forcefully of the place where he wanted to go. There were a bed, a desk covered in books, a poster of Morgan le Fay on the wall, there was a wardrobe full of clothes and underwear that he knew very well, and secret boxes in the drawers that were full of his letters and presents. He knew that place by heart, he had Apparated there a few times since he was on age, always in the middle of the night, always thrilled to meet the young lady that was constantly in his dreams.

James sighed. She was constantly in his dreams and still he had had the nerve to tell her that he didn't love her, how could he? If he had a Time Turner he would slap himself at that moment of his life.

The red haired boy closed his fists, his nails digging into his palms. _Rose's bedroom_, he said in his mind, _Rose's bedroom._ He had considered the fact that maybe his uncle had put spells around her bedroom, but he didn't care, if it was like that, he would have simply bumped back and the next time he would have Apparated into the garden, and made his way to her bedroom with his broomstick or by climbing up the tree that they had used many times to secretly get away from the house in some summer nights, when the sky was too beautiful to be ignored.

He started to feel the typical sensation caused by an Apparition: his mind and his body were both sucked into the force of the spell and he felt like he was pulled forward by an invisible force, his feet left the ground and his body was banged in thousands directions and soon he was travelling away from his own bedroom.

On the other side of the city, there was a subtle 'plop' and then some quick steps, and before James could even have the force of opening his eyes to see where he was, something sharp was digging in his chest.

"What are you doing here?" Rose's voice was strange, it was like she was trying to be aggressive and at the same time as if she wasn't able to hide the desire that was burning her alive. When James opened his eyes he was almost able to see that desire on her cheeks and in her shining eyes, she seemed on fire, but he wasn't so sure that it was for the happiness of seeing him.

James' lips parted, but suddenly his throat had become very dry and nothing managed to exit his mouth. What should he have said? There were thousands of things that he wanted to tell her, and he simply didn't know where to start.

"James, what are you doing here?" she repeated, and her voice became more quivering as she spoke, but at the same time, her wand poked into him a bit harder.

"I needed to see you, Rose," he said, speaking quickly and backing as she pushed him. "Please, don't send me away."

Rose cocked her neck and her curly, red hair half-covered her face; she was white and seemed more tired and she was a school, her eyes seemed bigger on her face, and her freckles were standing on her skin like blood stains.

"You can't stay here, James," she said simply. "You can't stay here."

"Because you don't want me here, or because your father doesn't want me here?" he asked, looking into her eyes.

Rose's expression became harder. "If I was scared of my father do you think that I would have said all those things in front of him two days ago, at your house?" she asked sharply.

James felt his heart aching. "Please, Rose, don't send me away, I need to talk to you," he almost begged.

Rose swallowed. "There were plenty of times of talking to me at Hogwarts, but you never even came so close to me," she said, holding her thumb and index finger closely in the air.

James' face was green and white, he closed his eyes and for a moment Rose thought that he was going to be sick. "I was a complete idiot, is that what you want to hear from me?" he asked, his voice trembling as she has never heard it do. "I was wrong, I was horribly wrong." He opened his eyes again and looked at her.

Rose's pupils were wide and she was looking back at him astonishingly and nervously at the same time. She shook her head softly, and her lips trembled. "James, no…"

James took a step towards her. "I said that I didn't love you," he continued, "I said that you were just a toy for me, I said that I wanted to be with you because you were beautiful and because it was dangerous." He took another step towards her and Rose stepped back, her wand still pointed to his chest, but more loosely than before now that his words were making her unsure. "I was lying, Rose," he went on, "I loved you, that's why I want to be with you every moment of my life, that's why--"

"No!" she cut him off, letting her wand fall and bringing her hands to her face, trying to covering the tears that were mercilessly falling down. "No! You don't understand, it's too late now…"

"Rose, I don't want you to forgive me, I just want you to know that I love you," he murmured, "I know I was horrible with you, but every time I said those things to you, I was hurting myself even more than you."

Rose melted into sobs, her knees failed her, but she never touched the floor because James was hugging her before she could even start to slide down. He caressed her hair and rocked her sweetly, murmuring words close her ear, but Rose never stopped crying.

James moved away a lock of crimson hair from her eyes and looked at her. "Will you able, not now or in a foreseeable future naturally, to consider my words and maybe forgive me one day?" he asked softly.

Rose looked at him, her eyes shining with tears. She tried to answer him, but he placed a finger on her lips and shushed her. "Wait, before you send me away, can I… can I touch…" His left hand slid down from her back and stood in mid air, some inches from her stomach. "Can I touch it?" he asked softly.

Rose's felt an electric shock that from her chest, reached every limb of her body, that wasn't real. That had been her dream for a month or so, but now it was turning into a nightmare, a nightmare worse than the one that she had the afternoon after they broke up. James was torturing her without even knowing it.

She placed a hand on his and guided it towards her stomach, she felt James holding his breath as he cupped her vaguely swollen belly, stopping near her navel and closing his eyes. They stood like that forever, and they were sure that not even Ron, if he discovered them at that moment, would have had the nerve to interrupt them.

Finally, James opened his eyes once again and looked down at his cousin. "If it's a boy can you call him--"

"No, James, please stop it!" she raised her voice a little, but always paying attention to keep it too low for her sleeping parents to hear her. She collapsed on the bed and hid her face in her hands, starting to sob uncontrollably.

James' eyes widened. "Rose, I'm sorry, what did I--"

"You don't understand," she sobbed, "it's too late. It's too late for everything."

He sat near her and surrounded her shoulders with one of his arms, pushing her thin body towards him. He caressed her soothingly, hushing her sweetly as he did so. "Why it's too late?" he asked, "there are still six months to go, and I'm with you if you--"

"What would you do?" she asked, sniffling noisily. "What would you do for me? What can we do?"

James kissed away her tears. "We can run away, together," he whispered, "it'll be just the two of us, we can go to King's Cross and take the first Muggle train for any city we want. They will never find us."

Rose gripped his arm and pressed her curly head in his chest. "Our fathers are Aurors, if they want to find us they'll turn England upside down to do so," she murmured.

"Then we'll go to that Muggle place where there are those flying things and take one for Italy or Spain or America," he said urgently, "I challenge my father to find us in another continent."

"Stop it, James," she whispered, "don't joke with me."

"I'm not joking, Rose." He gripped her chin and raised her face to his, then he kissed her on her lips, softly and delicately, and Rose answered to him as softly as him.

"Why are you here, James?" she asked against his lips. "Why did you come here tonight?"

"It's Christmas night, I didn't want to spend Christmas without you," he confessed, kissing her jaw, "I don't want to spend any other day of my life without you."

She placed her small hand on his mouth and backed a little. "Don't, James, please, don't," she sobbed.

He gripped her wrist and gently pulled her hand away. "Why, Rose?" He put his hand in his jeans pocket and pulled out a small box in red paper. "I also brought you my present."

Rose looked at the box with her eyes wide. "James…"

"I bought you something in May, but decided to change it three days ago," he confessed, offering it to her.

Rose looked at it without taking it in her hands. "James, I…"

"Don't worry if I don't get anything, Rose," he said calmly. "I don't deserve anything."

Rose's eyesight blurred a little with tears. "James, go away," she murmured.

"Rose, don't…"

"James, just go away!" she said, raising her voice, she pushed his hand far from her and moved away from him.

"Why?" he asked crestfallen.

Rose shook her head. "You wouldn't understand," she murmured.

"Try me," he said, sneaking a hand on her back.

"No, James," she whined, pushing him away. "Just go away, please, I can't do it if you're here."

James looked at her without understanding. "You can't do what?"he asked slowly, fear in his voice.

Rose shook her head, she stood up and walked away from him. "Just go away, forget me and never mention my name anymore, James," she sobbed, "I couldn't take it if you were here."

James stood up as well and walked towards her, he tried to pull her in a hug, but she resisted him. "Forget you? What are you talking about?"

"Just go away, then," she begged, "I can't concentrate if you're here with me, I can't do it if I know that you're standing here with me, I can't--"

"What can't you do, Rose?" he asked again.

Rose cast him a cold glance, then she turned on her heels. She walked towards the bedside table and opened it. She pulled out a small box and opened it, she walked back to James and showed the containing to her cousin.

James looked without understanding at the small phials filled with a liquid blacker than ink or oil. There were five of them, all filled to the cork. James took one in his hands and looked carefully at it, the liquid was perfectly still, and as he moved the phial it didn't shift at all.

"What's this?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Rose took a deep breath. "_Dolce Morte_," she said softly.

James looked at her, furrowing his brow. "What is it?"

"Poison," she answered, "its name is Italian for _Sweet Death_."

James put the phial quickly back into the box, and his eyes full of horror went to those of Rose, which were cold and calculating. "You stole it from Slughorn's office," he stammered, "you were the one who stole from his office."

Rose nodded. She closed the box and looked away. "Go away, James," she half-ordered.

James' lips parted. "You're not serious," he murmured.

"I am," she replied sharply.

"What do you want to do?" he asked, and Rose was crestfallen to hear fear in his voice.

She didn't answer, she turned her head and looked away from him.

"Oh my God, Rose, you want to drink it," he whispered as if saying it too loudly was simply too painful.

"Don't say a word to anybody of what I showed you," she snapped coldly, "just go away and don't say a word."

James looked at her as if she was going mad. "What?" he asked breathlessly, "what are you talking about? Who do you think I am?" He took a step towards her, his hands shaking at his sides. "You think that I can go home, lie down and sleep, knowing that you're going to poison yourself? You think that I will ever be able to forgive myself if I walked out of your bedroom before you were going to kill yourself? Who do you think I am?"

"You are someone that shouldn't be here, James," she whined.

"I was serious, Rose, elope with me," he murmured.

"We have no future, James," she said hoarsely, "even if we eloped, there's nothing we can do. The baby will be born, and we will be just a couple of teenagers, too young and too similar to look just like a normal couple." She looked at him. "You look even more like me than Lily."

"I don't care," he said sharply, "everybody can know about us, they can talk about us, I don't care. I just want to spend every single moment of my life with you."

"That's not what you said a month ago," she said dryly, "and in a month what it'll be? You'll change idea another time, James?"

James narrowed his eyes. "If you drink that poison, Rose, I swear that I'll kill myself," he muttered.

Rose lowered her eyes on her hands, they were shaking so badly that she was afraid that the phials would have fell on the floor if she didn't put them down. She put the box on the bedside table and sat down, without being able to restrain the tears that blurred her sight once again.

James walked up to her, he kneeled at her feet and looked up to her. "Do they hurt?" he asked. "My words I mean."

Rose nodded stiffly. "You came here to torture me, didn't you?" she asked softly, her voice broken with sobs.

James brushed away her tears. "Because you think that you're not making me suffer, don't you?" he replied sweetly. "I couldn't survive if you died."

Rose looked down at him. "And I can't live like this," she murmured, "my parents segregated me here, I'm sixteen and will be a mother soon, and the whole world will know that I was my cousin's lover."

"And if you were your cousin's _wife_?" he said quickly.

Rose sobbed. "James, don't play with me," she pleaded.

"No, Rose, I'm serious," he said. He took the box that he had offered her before and unwrapped it by himself, inside there was a small velvet box, and when he opened it Rose saw that it contained a small ring with a little diamond the size of a freckle on it. "Marry me," he said, offering it to her.

Rose looked at the ring with her eyes wide and her mouth open. She was well beyond crying now, she was far too surprised. She thought she knew James, but since the moment he had Apparated in her room, all her certainties about him had started to quiver and fall down one after the other. "You… you… you are not serious," she stammered.

"I am," he said urgently. He pulled out the ring from the box and put it on her wedding finger. It fit perfectly and she wondered if he had secretly measured her digit during one of the many nights that they have spent together.

Rose's eyes shifted from the ring to James and back to it, she moved her hand to see it shining at the soft light of the only turned-on-lamp and then, suddenly, lowered it. "I can't, James," she murmured.

"Why not?" he asked deluded. "I love you."

Rose pulled her ring off her finger. "I've already taken my decision," she sentenced, putting the ring in James' hand and closing his fingers around it.

James looked at the ring and stood up. "Okay," he said dryly, "okay, you hate me, I can understand you, really."

"James, I don't--"

"No, I'm serious, I can understand you," he blocked her, "but think at our child, when I asked you to terminate the pregnancy you almost jumped at my throat and now you want to kill it with you."

Rose looked away, her cheeks hot. "At that time I thought I was strong enough to have a baby and take care of it all alone, but I was just kidding myself," she confessed, caressing her stomach.

"You're not all alone," whispered James.

"James, don't," she moaned, "please, just stop talking. I'm not going back, why would I?"

"Because I love you," he insisted, "that should at least mean something."

Rose looked away. "There's nothing you can say that will make me think again at my decision," she said stubbornly.

James took a deep breath. "Then, I'll drink the poison with you," he said seriously.

Rose turned her head so quickly towards him that her neck cracked in the process, her throat was dry and as she tried to swallow she found that she couldn't. She felt her head becoming suddenly light, while the same anxiety that she had felt two days before in front of her whole family invaded her once again. "It's not one of your games, James," she warned him, "once you'll drink it, there's no way to go back."

"I know," he replied coldly.

She took a deep breath. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I would follow you to Hell and back again, if it were necessary," he said calmly.

She nodded softly. "That's good, because suicides go to Hell."

James nodded back, he had never been so serious and for the first time, Rose had the chance to see the man that had always been hidden by the boy in him.

"You know that Professor Slughorn's office was full of poisons?" she asked suddenly.

James looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"You know what does this poison do?"

"You are telling me that you've chosen this _Dolce Morte_ through a wide range of poisons?" he asked astonished.

Rose nodded seriously. "Naturally. You want to know what this one does?"

James nodded. He was strangely fascinated by the fact that she had so carefully prepared her death, it was like being one of those heroes that killed themselves rather than do something that they didn't want.

"It makes you see your happiest moments," she said, "before you die."

"Happiest moments?" he asked, crossing his arms. "It doesn't look like there's anything sweet in this."

Rose shook her head. "When you die, you are… you're in peace."

"In peace? I think that it's even more depressing than it normally would be," he replied. "You see that your life wasn't so bad after all, and maybe when it's too late to do something you convince yourself that dying wasn't the best thing to do after all."

"No," she said harshly, "on the contrary, you can die in peace, because your life hadn't been a completely waste of time."

James didn't answer to this, but he took some steps towards her and looked at her. "I know what I would see even without the poison," he murmured.

Rose's eyes shined with tears as she stood up and threw her arms at James' neck. She leaned her head against his and sniffled. "I know that too," she confessed.

He kissed her, his hands travelling up and down on her back, trying to touch her and memorize her body with every part of his skin. "When?" he asked against her lips.

She backed a little and looked at him. "It's now or never," she murmured, "I don't think that I'll be able to do this if I wait a minute longer."

"I have one last desire," he said, looking down at her with hope in his eyes. "You think you can satisfy it?"

"What is it?" she asked softly.

James lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers, his kiss growing fiercely as he claimed her mouth. He took a step towards her and then another and another, until she was hitting the bed edges with the back of her knees and was collapsing on the bed with James on top of her.

James let go of her mouth and leaned his forehead against her cheek, taking her hand in his own. Before she could even understand what he was doing, she felt the ring sliding back to its place, then he kissed her cheek and her lips with soft, sweet kisses. "I want to lie here with you," he murmured, "on your bed." He looked at her and then kissed her temple. "And I want you to wear the light blue dress that my mum got you for your last birthday." He moved away some hair from her eyes. "And I want to hold you while we are dying."

Rose's bottom lip trembled as some more tears wetted her cheeks. She nodded stiffly and then she hugged James once more, pressing her small body into his. "I love you," she whispered between sobs.

James hugged her back, his face hidden in her hair. "Love you too," he replied, and his voice petrified Rose.

James was crying.

* * *

Author's Notes 2: Love my last sentence. I warn one once again, buy a box of kleenex! Have a lovely week!


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Notes: Hmm, I'm updating quite regularly, aren't I? I think it's all because I don't have to wait for a beta-reader to correct this; you know, it's quite a long thing to wait for a beta-reader to go through your chapter. Look all my other stories! They seem on hiatus, but actually it's been months since I sent my chapters to my beta-readers. I'm quite happy that you are so nice with me and don't attack my surely terrible grammar and typos, so that I can post without a b-r without feeling too bad:) So, I guess you all were waiting for this chapter, but I have to warn you, this is NOT the last chapter. There are still some to come. How many? I don't know yet, not too many, though. Well, let me know what you think, naturally. And I want you to be brutally honest!

* * *

**Killing Me Softly**

Rose looked at James with a soft smile over her lips and pushed her naked body closer to his. Her cheeks were still flushed for the orgasm and her skin was on fire everywhere James was touching her. Their eyes were half-closed and they lazily looked at each other through their eyelashes.

"You think that we'll see this moment before dying?" asked James, caressing her waist.

"I'm sure," she replied, smiling. She stretched her limbs like a cat and pushed on her elbows to sit up. "I have to change," she explained as James looked intently her movements.

James grabbed her arm and pushed her back to him. "I changed my idea, there's no need for you to wear the blue dress," he whispered, kissing her neck.

Rose smiled and pushed him back gently. "I don't want them to find our bodies all naked," she replied simply, and that sentence, so plain and direct, had the power to bring James back to the cruel reality. He let her go and followed her with his eyes as she walked towards the wardrobe and opened it.

It nauseated him to see how she searched through her dresses to find the blue one and slowly sang a tune under her breath, as she did when she had to get ready for a dinner with her family, or for an afternoon spent for shops with Lily.

Instead she was going to kill herself. They were _both_ going to kill themselves.

Her body and her deliciously round belly disappeared under the dress. It was a summer, cotton dress, of such a light blue that it looked almost like it was white; the sleeves reached her elbows, and its edge went right under her knees. It fell comfortably around her waist and she had done no efforts at all when wearing it; under her breasts there was a darker blue band of shining satin which highlighted her breasts.

She looked at James, smiling, then she turned on her naked feet, making the dress blowing up. "What do you think?" she asked.

James bit her bottom lip. She was beautiful, and he couldn't believe that that was the last time that she would have wore that dress. "You're beautiful," he murmured. He kneeled on the bed and gripped her wrist, attracting her to him and making his arms sliding around her waist. He kissed her more and more times, as if his life depended on that.

James placed his hands on her legs and moved the dress up, but Rose stopped him and freed herself from his claiming embrace. She looked into his eyes and pulled a curly lock behind her ear. "Dress up, James. I'll make the bed," she said simply, walking away and turning just to offer him his clothes.

While he wore all his outfit – jeans, white shirt and a black jumper – Rose made the bed where they had just been together for their last time. The scene had something of unreal, as if they were a real married couple during a Sunday morning, not two young cousins that were going to kill themselves.

"Where do you want to do it?" asked James, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

"Here," she answered, without looking at him. Her voice was calm, but her movements were quick and betrayed a slight nervousness.

"In your bedroom?"

"On my bed," she replied.

"What if they find us before the poison has… worked?" asked James, and his own voice seemed extraneous to him.

Rose stopped her movements. "They won't find us," she said firmly, "the poison takes less than an hour to be effective and the morning is still far away. My parents never come to see me before eight."

James nodded.

Rose took a deep breath, she straightened her back and looked at him. "Are you ready?" she asked softly.

"How can someone be ready for his death?" he asked, smiling sadly.

Rose smiled too. She sat on her bed and swing her legs over the edge, sitting with her back against the bedpost. She took the box in her hands and followed James with his eyes as he sat on the other side of her bed, half-lying next to her as he did so.

Rose opened the box and took out a phial which handed to James. He took the top off and smelled the black liquid.

"It smells funny," he said, "I thought it would have been hideous, instead I almost like it."

"I know," she replied, "it's called the _Sweet Death_, don't forget it." She took a phial too and took the top off just as James had done. "On the count of three," she murmured.

James nodded.

"One," she breathed, her voice low, "two." She closed her eyes and brought the phial to her lips. "Three." The black liquid slid down their throats like fresh water, it was so light that they almost didn't have to gulp to make it flow in their stomachs. They stood still for a while, no sounds reaching their ears or pain touching their bodies, and when they opened their eyes again, they felt the strange feeling that nothing has changed.

"How do you feel?" asked Rose, standing perfectly still.

"Fine," replied James flatly, "what should we feel?"

"I don't know," murmured Rose. "Maybe one phial isn't enough." There was a hint of panic in her voice. "Maybe we should drink another one."

"Maybe we should wait," suggested James. He took the box from her hands and she didn't move to stop him. He put it on the floor near the bed and slid a little on the sheets, lying down completely.

Rose looked at him with her eyes wide, but when he patted the space next to his body she slid down as well, leaning her head on his arm and brushing her knees over his. Their breaths were soft, calm, almost inaudible and their heartbeats were slowing down, as if, rather than something mortal, they've just drunk a camomile.

James' hand slid slowly on her belly and Rose's fingers enlaced with his own near her navel. With her breath her stomach was raising and lowering in an enchanting rhythm, and for a moment James felt the urge to scream and cry at the same time, to stand up and run to his aunt and uncle's bedroom, tell them everything and beg them for an antidote. But he couldn't. Rose would have never forgiven him.

Rose's eyes closed slowly while distant bells were tolling three in the morning. She took a deep breath and felt it; a blinding pain that spread from her stomach to all her body. She moved slightly on the bed, squeezing her bottom lip in between her teeth. If she cried for the pain everybody in the house would have come in her bedroom and interrupted them.

A tear managed to escape through her thick eyelashes, and her hand pressed instinctively on her belly. In a moment she knew that she was alone once again. It was a strange feeling, as if after a month she could breathe freely again, as if she was sure that her parents would have talked to her like nothing had happened next time she saw them. As if drinking that potion and killing that baby was just a purifying act, and now she was as chaste as they thought she had always been.

A second later, though, her mind filled with sorrow. She had gotten used to the little creature that was growing in her belly, it was hers and she was its, and they shared something that no one, not even James, could understand; but now she had killed it and there was no way to go back.

She sniffled and tried to swallow the tears that she had never imagined she would shed when she planned her death in the middle of the nights. She felt James' hand squeezing hers, but she couldn't squeeze it back, her body totally petrified while her mind flew away and was sucked in the great power of the _Dolce Morte_.

Imagines flashed behind her lowered eyelids like pieces of a puzzle, the puzzle of her happiness. There was the first time her parents had brought Hugo home from the hospital; her fifth birthday spend in a Muggle cinema with her parents; her first day of school; James that kissed her for the first time; Albus and Scorpius that asked her if she wanted to go to Hogsmeade with them after she had had a fight with James; Scorpius that told her that he loved her; and then James, James and yet again, James. Their first time, their last time, them cuddling together, the two of them hiding in a closet at the Burrow, James who soothed her fears with his words and tender caresses; and strangely, the moment she had discovered that she was pregnant.

But like every artefact of the Dark Arts, even something which should have been sweet as its name suggested, was fishy and deceitful, because the last imagine she saw was something terrible, something that broke her heart. It was something that had not yet happened, something that would have occurred if she didn't drink that poison, something that now wouldn't have happened anymore.

She was half-lying on a white bed, she had a couple of needles in her arm but they didn't hurt her, she wore a plastic bracelet with a number on her wrist and a white nightgown, her hair was all over the pillow and her forehead was covered in sweat. She was pale and tired, but she was smiling. She felt a weight near her on the bed where she was and without even turning she knew that James was next to her. A woman walked up to them, holding a bundle of white covers, she bent over them and placed the bundle in her arms.

The baby was the smallest and most beautiful thing she had ever seen. He was stretching his little arms towards her, his fingers closing around thin air; there was some thin reddish hair on his delicate head, and a small bracelet with the same number she was wearing around his wrist. His pink complexion was spotted with freckles, his eyes were still closed while his mouth was well opened. Rose turned towards James, who kissed her on her lips, and then both of them were looking back to the small baby, contemplating him with their eyes full of tears.

Rose was exhausted, she felt her belly stinging with pain, her throat was hurting her for how much she had screamed; but for some strange reason that she couldn't understand, she had never been happier. Then everything went black and for a moment she opened her eyes and met James'. He was looking at her through sleepy eyes, but he seemed fine. She tried to open her mouth to tell him something, but nothing left her lips. And then she closed her eyes, and never opened them again.

* * *

You know when you are on the seashore? You know when you pick some sand in your hands and open your fingers to let its grains fall down? You know how it tickles your palms? Well, James felt exactly like that; he felt Rose's life sliding away from his hands like sand in the wind. He tried to close his hands and circle her body as much as he could, but it didn't matter how much he tried, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He knew that the baby had already left them, he had felt it. And now Rose was slowly and painfully dying in his arms.

He felt still quite fine, he had not yet started to see his happiest moments, and instead Rose was already dying. How long would have taken him to follow her? He hoped it was something quick, because he didn't want to stay away from her for two long, that was a sufferance far more terrible than dying.

James closed his eyes and concentrated on dying as quickly as possible. His eyes filled with tears, it was so unfair that he was forced to see her pass away, he didn't mind to die for her, but he didn't want to see her leaving that place before him, and so when some quick imagines started to flash in front of his eyes, he welcomed them with relief.

There was Lily at five years old, when she had drawn his portrait under a title that said _Draw your hero_; there was the first time Albus had asked him to explain a word that he didn't know; there was Rose the first time he kissed her; and then his mother when she had woken up in the hospital after falling down from her broomstick during a match; his father when he told him that he was proud of him; Rose in her blue dress; Rose at Christmas, her happiness as she opened his present; Rose naked in front of him; Rose smiling as she looked at him in the Great Hall…

But the potion didn't spare James, just as it hadn't spared Rose. So the last thing James saw was himself helping Rose climbing up the tree next to her window and then walking silently through her garden. She laughed and he shushed her, until they were into the desert street that from Rose's house brought to the centre of the city. They were barefoot, but they didn't mind. The cold wind was slapping their faces, but they were laughing.

They were running away. Running from everything and everybody, just the two of them. They didn't care where they were going, they didn't care if they were going to be caught, for that night they were free, they would have reached the closest church and married, they would have run until the airport and flew away, they would have never come back. It wasn't important. They were together, and nothing would have taken that from them.

Suddenly the vision disappeared, a pain numbed James' limbs and his fingers closed convulsed forcefully around Rose's waist. He swallowed hard, his mouth was dry.

He thought everything was over, but how could he be so wrong?

He heard the door burst open and someone screamed, a pair of strong arms grabbed him, pulling him away from Rose.

And then everything faded away.

_On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand chose,_

_Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses._

_M__e dit que le destin se moque bien de nous,_

_Qu'il ne nous donne rien et qu'il nous promet tout._

_Parais qu'le bonheur est à portée de main,_

_Alors on tend la main et on se retrouve fou._

* * *

Author's Notes 2: Hey! Why nobody had pointed out that Charlie was also the name of one of Ron's brothers? I guess you all were sure that I remembered that, weren't you? Well, for a moment I didn't.. I called Victoire and Ted's son that because of Charlie of LOST. That's quite terrible.. :) The final verses are from a Carla Bruni's song, "Quelqu'un m'a dit", if you need a translation, let me know. I think they fit pretty well, don't they:) One last thing: I was thinking about a sad ending for this story, and came up with the idea of killing the two lovers; then something struck my mind: because there was something that was even sadder, something terrible, something that for a moment had taken my breath away while I thought at what to write. I'm curious to see if you think that two, so here's a question for you: What's even worst than see two youg lovers killing themselves (like Rome and Juliet for example)? What would be even more terrible? Let me know what you think in your reviews, I'm very curious. :)

I love you, readers.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay with this one, these last two weeks have been like hell. Oh, gosh! Who am I kidding? It's still hell. I firstly I had my Spanish exams, which drained away all my energies, and secondly I received some horrible news. I won't go to Exeter as part of the Erasmus project next year, and not because the professor had chosen someone else at my place, but because he thinks my English level is too low and it won't permit me to follow the lessons there, and he's not giving the place to anybody else. I'm so depressed. Really. Sigh.. Anyway, this chapter is the first part of a bigger chapter, but I wanted to post something and not had the other part ready yet, so you're getting only half of that, the title referres to a part of the second half. I hope that you'll like it. I like the end.

Oh, yep, I've been accused by EphoniumGurl0 of stealing my plot from Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet", because of my sentence: "What's even worst than see two youg lovers killing themselves (like Rome and Juliet for example)?" Her PM was this: James/Rose: forbidden love, parents split them apart, female attempted to be wooed by other males, suicide, poison, idea of marriage, (i assume if you go through with this)parents become sad after death. Rome/Juliet: forbidden love, parents split them apart, female attempted to be wooed by other males, suicide, poison, idea of marriage, parents sad after death, etc., etc.

1. Forbidden Love: Rose and JamesII is forbidden because they are cousins, while Romeo and Juliet should be enemies, there's a big difference.

2. Parents split them apart: Romeo and Juliet have always been apart, they met one night at a party and fall in love, but they've never been together before that night. James and Rose have grown up together and their parents split them apart when they found out what had happened.

3. Female attempted to be wooed by other males: Juliet only has Paris, whom she has never met, but that her father had picked up for her. Rose has Scorpius and Wood, she knows them and they are her friends.

4. Suicide, Poison: I hope everybody knows that Juliet didn't poisoned herself to death, she died with Romeo's sword. Plus, how do you know that in my story everybody died?

5. Idea of Marriage: Rose and JamesII are NOT married.

6. Parents become sad after death: Hmm.. no, I was thinking about them dancing and cheering for the room after they find out that their children are dead.

I will gently ask you all to stop saying those kind of things about my story, only because I'm Italian it doesn't mean that everything is about Romeo and Juliet! And plus you cannot stole or plagiarize Shakespeare, his stuff is not under copyright.Everything is already going quite bad in my life, pleasedon't attack mefor something like this. Thank you.

* * *

**Worse than Pain**

Albus pushed his covers away and stood up from the bed. He purposely kicked his slippers away and walked barefoot towards the door, his feet raised and lowered noiselessly on the floor of his bedroom. He pressed his body against the door and brought the handle down without making any sound; the floor of the corridor was slightly colder than the one in his room, the air was a little less warm. He walked by the bathroom and stopped in front of a door. It was a wooden door, just like the other ones that there were in that landing, but that one, lately, had always been closed.

Albus brought his fist near it and knocked four times, once slowly, twice quickly and another one slowly. It was such a soft noise that for a moment Albus was afraid that he had just imagined to have actually knocked, but that was what he thought every night, and every night James opened the door.

Not that night, though. No, because nobody answered to Albus' knocking in the middle of Christmas night. He knocked again, slowly, quickly, quickly, slowly; nothing happened. He bent near the handle and tried to have a look through the keyhole, James' bedroom was dark, could it be that he had forgotten about staying up to meet him? Maybe he was too desperate because of the thought of not seeing Rose on Christmas day that year, as he had confided to Albus earlier that week.

Albus had been astonished by all James' confessions. He had never seen that part of his brother, the part that he thought it didn't exist. Until that very moment Albus was sure that his elder brother was the kind of boy that would have never had a girlfriend for more than a month, the kind of person that if you had a problem he would have simply suggested to drink a Butterbeer with him and everything would have been all right, the kind of boyfriend that would have left his girlfriend without thinking twice if she found out that she was pregnant.

"But you really had sex with Rose?" had asked Albus the first time James let him in his bedroom. His mouth had been open, his green eyes wide, he hadn't believed what his parents had told him.

James had looked at him with a hard expression. "Yes, I did," he had replied.

"And she's pregnant with your child?"

James had nodded. "I thought that dad and mum had already told you everything," he had said coldly.

"They have, but I didn't believe them," had said Albus simply.

James had swallowed a piece of cheese that Albus had brought him and had looked away.

They have been like that since the day James had been locked in his bedroom, it was their little secret and sometimes, when Albus received some news from Hugo about their cousin, he told them to his brother. But after a couple of days, James hadn't wanted to listen to them anymore, and he had started to speak even more sparely than he already did.

So, when James didn't answered to Albus' knocking, that night, the youngest Potter thought that he simply wanted to stay by himself, and could he blame him for that?

"What are you doing?" whispered a voice at Albus' back.

Albus started, then spin to look at the little girl that was standing in front of him. "No one of your business," he replied curtly to his sister.

"You want to go and talk to James, I know," she said, her eyes shining in the night like those of a cat.

"You don't know anything," hissed Albus, "go to your bed."

"I want to come with you," she continued, ignoring her brother. She crossed her arms and took a step towards Albus.

"I'm not going to James," insisted Albus.

"Yes, you are," snapped Lily, "I can hear you talking every night."

Albus' eyes widened a little. "You didn't say anything, did you?" he asked quickly.

Lily looked offended. "Who do you think I am?" she hissed. "Of course not, but I want to see James, although I'll really call mum and dad."

"You said you're not that kind of person, you wouldn't dare," snapped Albus.

Lily bit her bottom lip. "Try me."

Albus glared at her. "James isn't opening the door," he informed her coldly.

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not!"

Lily gritted her teeth. "Yes, you are!" She stomped her feet on the floor and growled in annoyance. "You and James are just--"

"What are you two doing up at this time of the night?" Harry appeared on the landing that brought to his children's rooms, his hair was even messier than usually, his eyes were half-closed for sleep. "It's Christmas night, you should be in your beds."

"We were fighting for the bathroom," said Lily promptly, causing Albus to jerk his head towards her in surprise. "I got out first, but he's being bossy."

Harry nodded distractedly. "Just stop doing all this noise, your mother and I were sleeping," he said. "Go to the bathroom and then straight to bed."

Lily and Albus nodded silently, but they didn't move.

"Well?" asked Harry.

Albus elbowed Lily in her ribs.

"Yes, daddy," she said, "goodnight!" And she disappeared into the bathroom.

"Yeah, goodnight," echoed Albus, walking to his bedroom and closing the door at his back.

Harry listened to his son's steps as they faded away from the door, when everything was silent again he glanced briefly at James' door and walked towards the stairs. He stopped with a hand on the railing. It was Christmas night, for Merlin's beard! What was he supposed to do with James? What James had done was terrible, but he was his son, and it was the most important night of the year. Would it have been so bad if he walked in his bedroom and wished him Happy Christmas? He was sure that Ron wouldn't have done something like that with Rose, but he wasn't Ron, they had raised their children in a slight different way, even if they had reached the same disastrous result.

He took a deep breath and walked towards James' door. He knocked softly and waited, but no answer came from the bedroom. "James, it's me," he whispered, "are you sleeping?" Still he heard nothing. He knocked again, but from James' room everything was quite. Harry took a deep breath and unlocked the door with the _Alohomora_ spell, it had been one of Ginny's ideas, Albus and Lily couldn't use magic out of school, so they couldn't have cast that simple spell, and with that they kept them away from James.

The door opened and Harry walked inside. "James, are you sleeping?" he asked again softly. No answer reached his ear, but to Harry it took only a few seconds to learn that something was not quite right. "James?" he called again, turning on the lights.

He stood still when he saw the scene he had in front of his eyes. The bedroom was a mess as always, and James was nowhere to be found. "James," called Harry, his voice higher and nervous, "if that's a game is not funny. Where are you?"

Nobody answered him.

Harry walked out of James' bedroom and stormed into Albus', he unceremoniously walked up to his bed and bent over him. "Where's James, Albus?" he asked quickly.

Albus' eyes opened. "What?" he asked surprised. "I don't know."

"What's happening?" asked Lily from the door.

Harry turned towards her. "Where's James?" he asked curtly.

Lily glanced briefly at Albus to see if she had to say something in particular to cover up something they did, just like they have taught her to do so far. But Albus shrugged his shoulders, his eyes wide. "I don't know," she finally said, "why?"

Harry ignored her, he walked out again and called for Ginny from the landing, a few minutes later Ginny was walking up the stairs, her body wrapped in her nightgown and her face covered with lines left from the pillows while she was sleeping. "What?" she asked sleepily.

"Where's James? Have you seen him?" He knew that Ginny had been asleep until a few minutes before, but he was too anxious to think clearly.

"What?" answered Ginny. "No, no, why?" There was a hint of panic in her voice, her eyes widened and, like the tide that covers the shore, filled with fear.

"He's not here," replied Harry, gesturing towards the door. Then he glanced at his other children. "Where is he?"

Albus shook his head, scared by his father's tone. "I don't know, really," he confessed.

"What were you doing in front of his door, then?"

"We wanted to see him," answered Lily in the tiniest of her voice, "but he didn't answer."

"How long have you been trying?" asked Harry.

"Oh, Harry, what's the point in questioning them?" asked Ginny, shaking her head miserably. "Did you hear him walking away? Did you hear the door banging? He Disapparated."

Harry looked at her for a long moment, as if he was trying to understand that she was saying. He thought that he had closed his son in an ivory tower, where he was constantly kept under control; on the contrary James was staying there of his spontaneous will, and now that he didn't want to stay there anymore, he had simply left.

"Where can he…" Harry's words died in his throat, he knew perfectly well where his son was, the thought of the Burrow, or King's Cross Station or Diagon Alley, or any other place on Earth didn't even brush his head, he was so sure that James was at Ron and Hermione's place that he mentally kicked himself for not having thought of that earlier.

Ginny nodded. "What shall we do?"

Harry's expression darkened. "I'm going to get him," he said, turning on his heels.

Ginny grabbed his arm. "I'm coming too," she informed him. "Ron will kill them if he find them together," she said, "we better talk to Hermione first."

Harry raised his chin. "Why? You think that I'm not angry?" he hissed.

"Yes, you are," replied Ginny, "and I'm too. He disobeyed us, and he had surely caused Rose to have a quite hard punishment if Ron finds them out. But I don't want Ron to Avada Kedavra them just because they are together in the same room."

Harry looked away. "I won't let that happen," he murmured. He turned towards his children and looked darkly at them. "Go to your bedroom and don't get out of there until your mother and I are back." Lily and Albus nodded and disappeared in their own bedrooms, too flabbergasted that James had left to reply anything. Harry and Ginny Disapparated from the landing and Apparated a few kilometres away, in the dark living room of their relatives.

Ginny wrapped the nightgown tightly around her body, and stepped closer to Harry. "Harry," she whispered, "let's wake them up, I don't want to act like a thief in my brother's house."

Harry nodded in agreement and walked towards the stairs, they went past them and reached for a wooden door. They knocked and Harry called Ron and Hermione's names a couple of times before they received an answer. Finally some steps on the other side announced that someone was coming to open the door.

Hermione appeared on the door, her hair a vaporous cloud of brownish curls, she rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the people in front of her. "Harry," she said after a while, "Ginny. What's happening?"

Before either Harry or Ginny could open their mouths to answer, Ron appeared behind Hermione. "What are you doing here?" he asked a bit more rudely than he had intended.

Harry and Ron exchanged a cold look. "We can't find James," he said suddenly.

"What do you mean that you can't find him?" asked Hermione, her voice nervous and fearful.

Ron didn't wait for an answer, he strode past his sister and his brother-in-law and walked quickly towards the stairs.

"Ron, wait!" screamed Ginny behind him. "Don't do anything to them!"

But Ron didn't listen to her, Ron wasn't listening to anybody at all in that moment. He was simply walking and walking, blood pounding furiously in his temples as he thought of his nephew and his daughter together under the same roof where he was sleeping.

Ron unlocked the door and pushed it open, but before he could enter Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards. "Ron, remember that she's your daughter and he's your nephew," he hissed.

Ron struggled to free himself from him, and walked inside. He saw their figures on the bed and threw himself at James, grabbing his arms forcefully to pull him away from his daughter. James' eyes opened slightly and then closed again as he fell like an unanimated object into Ron's arms.

For a moment there was such an unreal silence that all four of them had thought that they had gone deaf. Ron's eyes slid on his daughter's lifeless body, still holding James in his arms, and for a moment his heart skipped a beat. Then Hermione let out a shriek and everybody was brought back to reality.

Ron turned towards Harry, his eyes wide with horror and fear and guiltiness. He opened his mouth, but when he spoke he didn't recognize his voice. "St. Mungo's," he tried to mouth, while he Disapparated with his nephew in his arms.

_When the cold of winter comes_

_Starless night will cover day_

_In the veiling of the sun_

_We will walk in bitter rain_

_But in dreams_

_I can hear your name_

_And in dreams_

_We will meet again_

_When the seas and mountains fall_

_And we come, to end of days_

_In the dark I hear a call_

_Calling me there,_

_I will go there_

_And back again_

_--------------------------_

_I've been told that our lives aren't worth much_

_They pass quickly like roses wither._

_I've been told that destiny makes fun of us_

_That gives us nothing and promise everything_

_As if happiness was within reach_

_So we stretch our hand and find ourselves fooled._

* * *

Author's Notes 2: I'm glad that it was Ron the one who Disapparated with James, I don't know why but this little piece make me feel all warm and fuzzy. The lines at the end are (a) from the Breaking of the Felloship from Howard Shore and (b) the translation that you wanted from the lines of the French song I put last time. Hope you like them! Let me know what you think! 


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Notes: This is not the last chapter! If you are going to ask me if I cried while I wrote this, for the first time in all my life, yes, I did cry. I don't know if it came out all right, but I needed to write it. I wanted to give quick imagines and so my sentences are short and quick, I hope you'll get the idea of what I was seeing in my mind. 

I got accepted for Exeter! It was hard, but finally I got accepted there! I'l spend nine months in the university there! I simply can't wait! So... anybody from Exeter? 

* * *

**Never**

For a moment time slowed down. Healers were running, people were screaming, someone was crying. Ron felt a hand on his arm, a bushy-haired head by his side, her beautiful cheeks streamed with tears; Harry was placing Rose in the Healers' arms, her dress was covered in blood from her calves to the hem, and blood was running down her legs; someone had taken James from his arms, but Ron could still feel his warmth against his chest, he closed his fists as if he was trying to feel him there.

Words were spoken, but he didn't know who said them. Someone said _abortion_, someone screamed _poison_, someone else cried their names. Ginny was standing next to him, her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide, colour had drained from her face as she followed the Healers with her eyes; Hermione sunk her head in Ron's arm and he could feel her tears through his pyjamas, she tightened her grip on his arm and sniffed.

Ron felt gentle hands on his shoulders, someone was pushing him and Hermione towards a bench. He struggled to get away, and as he turned to look at the young Healer that was pushing him, time started to run away at its normal speed. 

"I want to see them," begged Ron, "she's my daughter." 

The Healer looked at him as if she was really sorry for him. "I will let you know something as soon as I've been informed," she said, "for now you can wait here."

"Don't tell me to wait!" cried Ron. "I want to see them." Hermione sobbed louder and leaned against the wall as if she couldn't bear to stand. 

The young Healer looked over Ron's shoulder and met Harry's eyes. "Please," he agreed.

The Healer looked back to Ron, her stern expression seemed to falter a little. She bit her bottom lip and titled her neck in a nervous gesture. "Follow me," she said, turning. She guided them through an aisle near the door through where the Healers had disappeared with James and Rose's bodies. She stopped in front of a wall covered with a heavy curtain and turned towards the four of them. "Don't bang on the glass, they cannot hear you anyway," she warned, she looked at Ginny and Hermione. "It might be quite a painful view."

"I don't care," answered Ron curtly. He was speaking for himself, completely forgetting about the other three people with him, he wasn't forcing them to stay and look, but no one was walking away and so he assumed that they wanted to stay too. 

The Healer nodded slightly, she took out her wand and waved it towards the curtain. The thick material slid apart, discovering a huge window that overlooked what seemed an emergency room. Hermione was the first to react to the scene that they were watching, she let out a strangled cry and walked towards the window, placing a hand over it, as if she was trying to go through it and reach the other room. 

On the other side of the glass Healers were running, screaming and gesturing around two beds one placed closer to the window and the other a bit farther. Rose lay on the closer one, while James was on the one that stood a bit farther. They had been disrobed, James was in his pants while Rose was wearing just her knickers which were soaked with blood, her small body displayed mercilessly to the cold eyes of the Healers; it was too much for Ron, he walked up to Hermione and put his hand on her shoulder. She put hers over his and squeezed it, she tilted her neck and brushed her cheek lightly over the back of his hand.

Ginny was finding in Harry the support that she needed to stay up, she seemed ready to faint every moment now, her knuckles were white on Harry's arm, she was surely grasping painfully at her husband's upper limb, but Harry didn't seem to notice her iron-like fingers; his green eyes were fixed on what was going on in the room on the other side of the glass. Just like everybody else.

Healers were busying themselves around their children's bodies, there were at least five people around each one of them, but they kept on moving and changing places so that they were not able to count them, not even if they were more concentrated than now. The Healers had their wands in their hands; a woman was holding a some vials, everybody was looking at her while she talked quickly, once she ran away they looked back at Rose and James, they pointed their wands at their motionless bodies and their smooth skin broke in thousands places.

"No!" cried Ginny, looking away. Blood was flowing from their throats, wrists, chests, legs, and at the same time a Blood-Replenishing Potion was forced into their mouths; someone screamed for a Bezoar, but some of the Healers shook their heads, nonetheless a Bezoar was brought there and they stuffed it under their tongues. 

The woman that held the vials came back into the room, she walked towards the Healers that were surrounding Rose and gave them a can of a greenish liquid. "It was _Dolce Morte_," she said quickly, "and the vial has been opened for three hours."

One of the Healers looked at her. "It's too much," he cried, "where's the antidote?" She gave him the can and the liquid was brought to Rose's mouth. It was a miserable scene, Rose's perfect skin was covered with wounds and blood, around her mouth there were the traces of the potions that have been forced into her thin mouth, her body was perfectly still and she looked like she would have never waken up. 

The same antidote was poured into James' mouth, some of it slid down his chin and onto his chest, leaving green traces like oil on canvas. His red hair were sticking to his head, flames around his forehead; his skin was pale like wax. He didn't move, his limbs as still as if life and hope had already left them.

And then it happened, and it was terrible. 

The Healers around Rose slowed their movements on her body, their glances to each other became longer and more meaningful, the Healer that had poured the antidote down her throat raised his head and shook it lightly. He pocketed his wand and took a deep breath, without looking at the glass he announced, "She's gone." The other Healers stopped their ministrations one after the other and stood still for a moment, every one of them probably thinking if there was anything else left to do.

Hermione's eyes widened. "No!" she screamed, hitting her palms on the glass. "No! No!" She threw herself towards the window, hitting it, trying to get into the room, to touch her daughter, to hug her, to bring her back home with her, because that was just a nightmare, that couldn't have been real. "My baby!" she screamed despairingly. "Rose! No! Rose!" 

Ron's arms were on his wife before she could even understand what was happening, he pulled her towards him and made her turn away from the glass at the same moment in which the Healers covered the raped body of their daughter with a white, cold sheet. He held her firmly, even if she was trying to get away from him. He didn't let her watch Rose, but he couldn't keep his eyes away from her figure, not even now that her body was hidden under that sheet.

They felt like their lives had reached the very end, like there was nothing else after that moment, their grief was too great to believe that there could have been something worse than that. For a stupid moment that thought comforted them. 

Then everything came shattering over their shoulders as one of the Healers screamed, "He's alive!"

Hermione's eyes widened, she stiffened, backed away from Ron and caught a glimpse of Harry and Ginny, hugging each other and crying, they were doing their same, exact gestures, but their expressions were different. They had lost a niece, but their son was alive, Hermione could tell that they were _relieved._

Hermione turned to look through the glass, James had his eyes open, his fingers were moving slowly, and as a Healer was telling him what to do he responded to him. He closed his fingers around the Healer's hand, he blinked, he breathed. 

For a moment Ron and Hermione felt the worst sensation ever. Their nephew was alive and they weren't happy. For a moment they thought that it wasn't right, that it wasn't fair. A daughter for a son, that was the unspoken pact. They would have wanted him to be dead, as dead as their daughter was. Why Ginny and Harry couldn't feel the same pain that they were feeling? They needed to share their agony with someone else, it was too much just for the two of them. 

Hermione let out a strangled cry and collapsed in Ron's arms, her sight blurred with tears, her head pressed against his chest, she gripped his pyjamas and pulled at it. Ron hugged her back, but his mind was somewhere else, his unfocused eyes were following the slow movements of his nephew. For a moment everything Ron had ever known it didn't exist anymore. For a moment love and hate were just one feeling. 

And then time slowed down again and everything went black.

* * *

Author's Notes2: Please don't ask me if this is the last chapter, because this not the last one! Hope you enjoyed it. Sorry for all the mistakes you might find, I've a cold and it's almost 1 am here in Italy. Wait for my next chapters, they'll surely come soon! Please, review this one in the meantime! :) 


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Notes: Happy Easter!! I forgot to write that in my last AN! Sorry!! So, well.. I don't know what's wrong with but why on Earth some symbols can't be used on this site? For example the slash, the asterisk and the dashes. All things that serve to divide paragraphs! I mean, why they don't appear? Come on, someone give me a good explanation! Uff! Okay, anyway, I went through all the chapters of these story and divided my paragraphs with those lines. So that you won't be confused. It took me forever, but I did it for you, hope you're happy. :) About this chapter... this is not the last one! I think it's kind of sad, but I think that the next one will be sadder, so get ready! Hope I managed to picture everybody's feelings well.. Happy reading!

* * *

**Beyond**

Scorpius collapsed on his bed, the piece of parchment fell on the floor without a sound and for a moment his heart stopped to beat. Could six simple words change his life so abruptly? Yes. Yes, they could.

_Rose is dead. Funeral on Monday._

Scorpius' mind blanked. That was some sort of cruel joke, wasn't it? Rose had told Albus about their little quarrel and had asked her cousin to make up something that would upset him, and here there was. A stupid letter saying that the girl that he loved was dead. That couldn't have been real.

It was a joke and even a bad one because Albus had not even wasted his time by making up some sort of explanation about her dead. If that would have been real he would have explained what had happened to her, wouldn't he? For example: _Rose's dead. She fell from the stairs. _Yes, that would have been more natural. Definitely. Scorpius inhaled sharply; unless Albus hadn't been too devastated to write those few words.

Scorpius shook his head. That was a joke, a vindictive joke that his friends didn't even take the time to make properly. Wasn't that? Wasn't that? Why with every minute that passed his confidence was shaken by thousands thoughts? The last time he saw Rose, she was pale and unhappy. They were standing at King's Cross Station and she kept herself far from James. He could remember that because he had passed by and pretended that he hadn't seen her, he knew that that would have hurt her more than thousands words.

Was she dead? Was she? Scorpius felt a sudden anger rise inside of him. He was one of her best friends, if she was really dead they could have spent more words on the subject, could have given him details, could have helped him understand why. Scorpius furrowed his brow. But if she was really dead, they wouldn't have wanted to give him details, to describe everything for him, to say something that might have been terrible, maybe much more terrible than falling from the stairs.

Scorpius' lips curved involuntary in a soft smile. If Rose was really dead and Albus had found the time to write him, then he really meant something for them. Surely all their other schoolmates would have known the news through the Prophet and… Scorpius stopped, for a moment air left his lungs. There was a way to know if Albus was pulling at his leg or if the girl that he loved so much was really gone forever. The Prophet. Rose Weasley was niece to Harry Potter and daughter of two important Minister employees, if she was dead the Prophet was surely giving that information on the first page, and his father was subscribed to the Prophet.

Scorpius stood up from his bed and smoothed his robes. There was going to be a Christmas party at the Manor in a few hours, with lots of guests of some of the most important pureblood families of the Magic World. He liked parties, but all of a sudden he didn't feel like celebrating.

He walked slowly towards the door, pushed it open and stepped in the corridor between two high rows of portraits that looked down menacingly from the walls; and then the stairs, the living room, the dining room… it seemed to him that it was taking him ages to get to his father's studio, where the newly arrived Prophet was surely laying.

And there it was. On the table next to an unfinished cup of tea. The first page a bit wrinkled, as if someone had already read it and had squeezed the paper in his hands. Scorpius looked at it as if it was dangerous, as if it could have bitten him. He took a step towards it and then stopped. He took a deep breath and seized it.

"You were friends, weren't you?" asked a voice at his back.

Scorpius turned to look at his father. "What?" he asked, the Prophet still in his hands.

Draco nodded towards the newspaper. His face was solemn, as if he had just known something that he didn't like. "You and the daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley, weren't you friends?"

Scorpius' eyes slid on the newspaper.

One of the most beautiful pictures of Rose was placed under a title that announced her death. The newspaper fell from his hands like the note from Albus had done upstairs.

"You were friends, weren't you?" asked Draco again, he was calm and there was almost a hint of sadness in his voice.

Scorpius looked at him, his eyes wide. He didn't want to answer him, there was no need to; he knew perfectly well that they were friends, he had spent summers talking about Rose and Albus, and his father had spent hours trying to tell him that they weren't worth his time. But now that Rose was dead, Draco didn't seem to be rejoicing. Scorpius didn't know if he was doing that because of him or if he was really sorry for that loss.

"You want to go to the funeral?" asked Draco.

Scorpius looked at him with his eyes wide and his mouth open. He tried to say something, anything, but nothing left his lips. Rose was dead. Rose was gone forever. She was gone and the last time they talked he had told her that she was a horrible person. That was not real. That was not fair.

* * *

Gold, red and green. These are the colours that represent Christmas spirit. These are the colours that the Weasleys had locked away this year. Black, black, black. Everything was black. Their robes, their houses, their souls.

They walked behind the little black coffin, wrapped tightly in their coats, the pouring rain soaked their hair, their feet slid on the slimy soil that had become a shallow swamp under them.

There were the Weasleys, family friends and Rose's schoolmates. Muggles and Wizards. The officer was an old wizard, his face was wrinkled and white, his beard long and curly. He had some wonderful words to comfort the relatives of the dead, but nobody was really listening to him. After all, it was easy, wasn't it? He surely knew thousands of words to say in such a moment. There wasn't any other grief so great as to lose a daughter, who had killed herself very probably out of protest, brining her son with her. Sweet, soothing words left the officer's mouth so easily it was almost painful. Luckily nobody listened to him.

Hermione was sitting on the front row of chairs. Ron sat at her side for all the time, his arm around her shoulders as he pulled her towards him. They never stood up, but nonetheless Hermione's sobbing could be heard for all the cemetery. Hugo was next to them, his face screwed up with silent tears, his eyes low, his fists closed in his lap.

Next to Hermione sat her Muggle parents. Their eyes fixed on the coffin covered in black roses. Next to Hugo there were Molly and Arthur. Molly still couldn't believe that she was sitting there, under the rain in an awful Boxing Day afternoon, looking at the tomb that was sheltering the body of her beloved granddaughter. A few days before the letter that said that Rose was pregnant with James' child, a few days later Victoire had brought her the news of her death, her beautiful face screwed up with shock and desperation as she told her grandparents what herself had been told from her uncle. It was just too unreal to be true.

Bill and Fleur were there. Percy and Audrey. George and Angelina. Charlie. Albus was looking through his glasses without seeing anything, for his spectacles were blurred with rain and his eyes were obscured with tears. Lily was shaking with sobs every now and then, she didn't notice her brother's arm around her waist when he tried to comfort her.

Harry and Ginny were sitting next to their youngest. They weren't crying, they weren't moving, they weren't almost breathing. To whom knew the facts as they had really happened—and they weren't a lot, because the Weasleys had wanted the Prophet to stay out of their lives—the first thought might have been that they were still thankful for the fact that the coffins in that cemetery weren't two that day. Hermione and Ron just hoped they felt guilty; and thinking that made themselves feel mortified.

* * *

"Albus."

The black-haired boy turned and raised his green eyes to meet those of his best friend. He took off his glasses and polished them in one of his sleeves, he put them back on his nose but couldn't see anything anyway, his eyes were still blurred with tears. "Scorpius," he replied without any emotion in his voice.

The rain had stopped, but nobody had seemed to notice. The officer had also stopped talking, but no one in the first rows had stood up. The coffin had started to be lowered into the hole and some of the friends and distant relatives had lined up to express their condolences to the family of the girl. Draco Malfoy and his wife had lined up as well.

Scorpius looked away from Albus as if he couldn't bear to look at him. "I still don't know what happened," he murmured.

Albus shook his head. "She's dead, is that important?" he asked rudely.

Scorpius didn't answer, didn't turn to look at him, didn't even breathe. He waited, because he knew Albus, and he knew that the raven-haired boy had to talk to him, had to talk to his best friend.

"Don't you read the Prophet?" asked Albus. He didn't want to talk about Rose.

"I don't believe anything it sa--"

"She was pregnant," Albus bit out, his words making Scorpius turning his head slowly towards him, his look flabbergasted as his eyes focused on Albus. "She was pregnant with James' child." He looked at Scorpius as if he felt like he had to specified something and added, "My brother."

Scorpius furrowed his brow and looked at him as if someone had just cut air from his lungs. She intentionally forgot to tell him that she was pregnant with her cousin's child when she had confessed him her incestuous love. For a moment Scorpius was lost in his thoughts as he imagined how he would have reacted to her saying that to him.

"Nobody of us saw that coming," continued Albus. "They were quite good with keeping everything secret."

Scorpius nodded. It was like being pulled underwater in a frozen river. He was the first person to whom Rose had told her dirty, little secret. How could he feel so delighted in a moment like that? He felt sick at the very thought of rejoicing at that moment. He shook his head as to send that thought away. "Where's your brother?" he asked flatly.

Albus seemed to darker even more. "Still in the hospital," he answered. "He survived the poison, but he's still too weak to come out."

"Poison?"

Albus inhaled sharply. "They both drank a poison, an Italian one. They wanted to kill themselves." He looked away and shivered. "Don't ask me why Rose died and James didn't."

"I won't."

Albus nodded. He turned and added, "I have to go."

Scorpius nodded back and before other words were spoken, Albus was gone.

* * *

Harry took a deep breath. He would have affronted Voldemort again and again rather than meet Hermione and Ron. He would have fought with dragons rather than meet eyes with his brother-in-law. He would have visited the Dursleys rather than see Hermione crying again. But he had to do that.

He Apparated into Hermione and Ron's garden and stood exactly still, his eyes scanning the door in front of him. There was nothing different from any other day in which he had Apparated in front of his best friends' door; it could have been one of those Sundays in which he asked them to join him to see his wife at a Quidditch match; or a Christmas morning of some years before, when he dressed up like Father Christmas for Rose and Hugo and then Ron would have dressed up for James, Albus and Lily; or yet again, an afternoon in which Hermione had invited him for tea. But it was no one of these things. It was a visit to comfort his brother-in-law and his wife for the death of their daughter.

He knocked on the door and when Hugo opened it, he understood that he wasn't welcome in that house.

"Hey," said Harry.

Hugo stared at him, his face incredibly expressionless for a child of his age. "Hey," he replied without moving from the door.

Harry took a deep breath. "Are your parents at home?" he asked calmly.

Hugo nodded, he turned away and let the door open. Harry followed him inside. The house that he knew so well and was famous amongst their friends for its tidiness was completely different from what Harry remembered. Clothes were everywhere, with leftover food and dirty dishes. It was exactly like the last time Hermione had been away for a few days.

Hugo stopped on the first stair and nodded towards the living room, then he disappeared up the stairs. Harry heard his bedroom door closing and a soft music coming from his nephew's room, then a soft voice and music that he had at first ignored came from the living room.

He walked slowly towards the living room where, in that time of the year, there used to be a huge Christmas Tree and colourful decorations. Now there was nothing more than rubbish on the floor and a television turned on in front of the couch. Ron was half-sitting half-laying on it. His blank eyes stared uninterestingly to the Muggle device in front of him, he didn't seem aware of Harry's presence, or, if he was, he didn't seem to find him interesting enough to have his attention.

Harry sat on the armchair next to the sofa. "Ron," he said softly, just like Scorpius had said his son's name back at the cemetery two days before.

Ron turned his head towards Harry. His beard was growing wildly, his eyes were ringed and puffy, his hair was ruffled. He didn't answer Harry while his eyes focused on him.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but nothing seemed to exit his lips. He didn't know what to say. Maybe before getting there he had imagined that he knew the right words to soothe his best friends pain, but now that he was sitting there he understood that there were no words to soothe a parent that had lost his daughter.

"Hi Ron," was all Harry could say.

Ron looked towards the television that Harry was sure, in almost twenty years, their friends had never turned on. "It was nice of you to pass by, Harry," he said tonelessly.

Harry nodded, looking around himself as if to try to find the inspiration to say something. "Where's Hermione?" was the only thing that he was capable of asking.

"Upstairs," Ron replied.

Harry nodded. "Can I call her here?"

Ron laughed softly. "She won't come."

Harry looked towards the stairs. "Can I go upstairs?" he asked shyly.

From the television came a fake laughter, but Harry and Ron didn't laugh. Ron raised his hand dismissively and nodded uncaringly. For Harry was enough. He felt almost better now that he understood that he wouldn't have met Ron and Hermione together.

Harry stood up. Ron didn't move.

Living room, hall, stairs, corridor. The door was open, but Harry knocked anyway, even if he could see Hermione's figure on the bed, her body wrapped loosely in a dressing gown, her hair displayed on the pillow. She didn't answer him, but he walked in and started to talk to her as if he had been invited inside.

"Hey," he said.

Hermione didn't move. For what Harry could see, she wasn't even blinking, her breath so soft that it could have fooled any doctor that had to check if she was dead or alive. Harry circled the bedroom and came before her, he sat down at the feet of the bed and looked at her.

His eyes caressed her body for a while, but he took them away as soon as he noticed that half of her left nipple was visible and that her dressing gown was sliding a bit too high above her calves. She didn't seem to care if Harry saw her like that. She wouldn't have cared even if she was naked.

"Ginny had prepared some meat loaf for you, but I forgot it at home," said Harry unexpectedly, his eyes on his feet.

Hermione didn't move. Her right hand was placed next to her face, while her left one was on her waist, she had rings around her eyes, just like Ron, but her eyes seemed puffier than those of her husband. For a moment Harry found her the best personification of the word _despair_. The moment when he had believed that there was nothing else after seeing his son dying seemed so far now, and yet, every time that he looked at Hermione was still so close.

"Hogwarts starts in a few days, do you want me to come and collect Hugo the day the train leaves?" he asked tentatively.

Hermione didn't move, nor she let him know that she was listening to him.

Harry sighed, he stood up, she was making it even too clear that she wanted to be left alone and even if Harry had come there hoping to give them a bit of solace, who was he to stay when he was so clearly unwanted? He stepped towards Hermione and bent over her, kissing her smooth forehead.

Hermione's hand was quick for someone who seemed nearly unconscious, she grabbed Harry's wrist and kept him close to her. Then she finally blinked and her upper eyelashes covered with trapped tears that shone between her lashes like dew on a pine branch.

"I just don't know why," she whispered, her voice broken.

Harry was too surprised to react immediately to the fact that she had moved and talked, it took him several seconds to open his mouth and get back to reality. "Why what, Hermione?" he asked softly.

Hermione took a deep breath and a tear ran down her cheek. "Why Rose died while James didn't," she murmured. She met eyes with Harry and another tear fell from the corner of her eye.

Harry looked away. Strangely enough she was hurting him with her hand on his wrist, as if she had been stronger than she seemed. Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, as if he was silently stammering. "The Healers had said that they drank the same quantity of poison at the same time, but that it acted differently because of their different constitution," he said mechanically. He was sure that Hermione had received the letter from the Healer that had to investigate on their case, but he wasn't so sure that she had read it. Or maybe that wasn't the answer that she wanted.

More tears escaped her eyes. "I miss her," she whispered, "I miss her with all my heart."

Harry was prepared for anything. Being called names, being screamed against, being punched on his nose. He wasn't prepared for tears and more tears, he wasn't prepared for Hermione acting that way. "I know," he answered dumbly and he was surprised to feel something wet crossing his cheek and falling down on Hermione's forehead. "I miss her too."

Hermione nodded. She closed her eyes and let go of Harry. The man stepped back and looked at her without moving. Time passed, but she didn't move or say anything else, and Harry assumed that she was finished.

He kissed her forehead one more time, brushing away his own tear, and soon he was walking out of the room. He left the door open, he understood why Ron or Hugo didn't close it before, didn't give her privacy. She was too desperate to not contemplate suicide, and Harry wouldn't have wanted that. He wouldn't have wanted to cry again and again.

Without even noticing that he had walked all the way back to the living room, Harry sat down on the armchair next to Ron. Ron didn't look at him. For a moment Harry wondered if him and Hermione had talked at least once since the funeral. From their behaviours it seemed quite unlikely.

"Ginny prepared some meat loaf, but I forgot it at home," he felt the urge to inform him.

Ron nodded, but he didn't answered.

"I talked to Hermione," Harry added.

Ron nodded again.

"Why don't you come over for lunch once?" asked Harry unexpectedly. "James will be home by next week and--"

"What did you say?" Ron was looking at Harry with red eyes wide.

"To come over for lunch one of these days," replied Harry calmly.

"Why is James coming home?" he asked.

Harry couldn't define his best friend's tone of voice. He wasn't sure if he should feel worried or reassured by Ron's interest towards his son. "He's almost completely rehabilitated," Harry said slowly.

Ron's eyes watered a little and then they seemed to go blank. He nodded and turned his attention back to the television.

Harry looked at him with sorrow and pity. He wanted to stretch a hand towards him, to touch him and let him know that he was there, but he couldn't. There was a barrier between them, a silent pact that said that nothing would have been the same.

"I'm going, Ron," said Harry.

Ron nodded. He didn't raise his eyes as Harry walked away, as he stopped in the entrance hall and Apparated away. Ron didn't even move when he heard Hermione crying harder than usually. He didn't answer when Hugo asked him what he wanted for dinner. He didn't listen to the television as he talked about the newest Brad Pitt's movie.

Ron just wanted to know.

* * *

Author's Notes 2: I hoped for more reviews for the last chapter, but well.. Will you review at least this one? TT I really want to know what do you think, and I'm not talking to my most faithful reviewers, I know you review and I love you with all my heart. You make my day every time you waste your time with writing something to me. Next chapter will be up soon, and hopefully this story will be finished before the end of the week! Luv ya!


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Notes: I'm absolutely sorry, but I have to tell you that I don't like this chapter. Not at all. I had imagined it in a totally different way in my brain, but as I wrote it I found it very difficult to put my thoughts on paper. So, the chapter is pretty terrible, if you ask me. Flame it, I'm fine with it, I would flame it myself. Anyway, after this one there'll be only another chapter, the last one, which I'll try to post asap. Btw, I'm sorry CT, I think this didn't satisfy your expectations, did it? --

* * *

**Love Beyond Measure**

Ron raised his eyes when Healer Thompson walked out of his office and stopped in front of him. He was a man in his mid-fifties and wore a gentle smile over his face, blue, piercing eyes and black hair grew a bit wildly on his head. "I'm sorry for the waiting, Mr Weasley," he said, opening an arm and gesturing to Ron to follow him into his office.

Ron stood up from the chair and nodded slightly. "It's okay," he managed to say in a bare whisper. The office of the Healer was extremely white, tidy and clean. There was a huge bookshelf on the wall behind a desk and certificates that attested Mr Thompson's skills to take care of his patients.

The Healer closed the door at their backs and circled his desk. He sat down and gestured to the chair opposite to him. "Please, Mr Weasley, sit down," he encouraged him. "Would you like something to drink?" He opened a glassy cupboard and peered inside as if he didn't remember what he could have been able to offer to his guests. "Water, perhaps?" he asked a bit embarrassed.

Ron shook his head and some of his locks fell in his eyes. For a moment he remembered that his hair had grown a bit too freely in the past days, that his beard hadn't seen a cut in quite a few time and that his whole appearance was that of someone who hadn't slept in months.

The Healer nodded gently. "So, Mr Weasley, you are here to see one of my patients, is that correct?" he asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them.

Ron nodded. "James Potter," he said. He looked at the Healer as if he wanted to add something else, but couldn't find the courage, so instead he kept his mouth close.

"Ah, Mr Potter of course," said the Healer, opening one of his drawers and pulling out a pile of documents through which he started to rummage. "Baker. Finsbury. Longbottom. Paley. Pinter. Potter!" he said, eventually pulling out a document from the pile.

He opened it and skimmed quickly through the page, then he closed it again. "Yes, and you were telling me that you were a relative, right?"

"I'm his Uncle," said Ron tonelessly.

The Healer nodded stiffly, while in his eyes shone a strange light, as if he had understood something, but wasn't willing to let him know that. "I see," said the Healer slowly, "and you wanted to talk to him."

"Is that forbidden?" asked Ron a bit too heatedly than he had intended.

The Healer smiled affably. "No, of course not, Mr Weasley," he replied, "but being his treating Healer, I have to put my patient health in front of anything else."

Ron shifted nervously on his chair. "And how would I threat your patient health?" he asked.

The Healer took a deep breath, as if he was going to explain how to breed the Polyjuice Potion to a five-year-old child. "Mr Weasley, firstly I would like to express my condolences about your daughter's death," he said rather unexpectedly.

Ron swallowed, his face darkening at once. "Th-thank you," he said.

The Healer nodded. "I know that it must be a terrible pain that you're feeling now," he continued.

Ron looked at him, his eyes cold like pieces of ice. "Do you, Mr Thompson?" he asked icily. "Have you lost a child?"

The Healer looked taken aback by his sudden question. "I-I haven't, but…"

"And has your wife ever fallen in such a deep despair that she isn't even aware that you're laying next to her on your bed?" he asked again.

The Healer sighed. "No, never," he replied, feeling defeated.

"Then, don't tell me that you know how I feel," hissed Ron.

Mr Thompson nodded. "I'm sorry," he replied quietly. "I didn't mean to offend you or underestimate your loss, Mr Weasley." He looked back at James Potter's file. "The problem is that my patient's mental stability is constantly threatened by any external factor." He took a deep breath. "He tried to kill himself."

Ron looked annoyed. "I'm well aware of that," he replied curtly, "my daughter died in that same attempt."

The Healer shook his head. "He tried again," he informed him, "two times."

Ron furrowed his brow, as if he was trying to understand what the Healer was telling him. James, his James, his nephew, he had tried to kill himself. The moment Ron had understood that he had survived the suicide attempt had been like a fist in his stomach; but now that he was being informed that he had tried to kill himself again it was more like air cut from his lungs and a thousand needles piercing his heart at the same time.

And then the shock. Harry and Ginny hadn't told him anything about those attempts. He felt betrayed by them, and at the same time, he felt relieved and almost grateful that they hadn't mentioned anything, for he couldn't have been sure of his reaction in front of them. "How?" he tried to ask, his voice a whisper.

The Healer took another deep breath. "The first time we thought it was an accident, that someone had got the dose of the antidote we daily feed him with wrong."

"And in reality what happened?" asked Ron dryly.

"In reality he had managed to steal some bottles of the antidote," he informed him sadly, "we'd found them under his bed." The Healer looked away from Ron. "The second time he cut his veins."

Ron closed his eyes. He felt like he was going to throw up. James had tried to kill himself again. Why? Ron shook his head. That was a stupid question.

"Mr Weasley."

When opened his eyes again, Mr Thompson was offering him a glass of water. Ron stretched his hand and took it, but couldn't find a word nor a gesture to thank him. He didn't drink it though.

"Listen, Mr Weasley," he continued, "I don't know why you want to see your nephew, and I don't want to know it, but James Potter is my patient and I want your word that you won't bring up the issue of your daughter."

Ron shook his head and let out a nervous chuckle. "Anything about me will bring up that issue, Healer," he said truthfully.

Mr Thompson seemed to think about that, then he finally nodded. "I cannot prevent you to see your nephew," he said, "he had been asked about the matter and in his way we understood that he agreed. Even if his parents differed, he's of age and what he wants is what we have to take into consideration."

Ron let the glass of water fall on the floor. It shattered in thousands pieces. His breath was difficult, his face was screwing up as if tears were threatening to fall from his eyes. He looked away and closed his eyes, swallowing with difficulty. James knew that he was coming. He had thought that it would have been a surprise for his nephew, a bad one, a good one, he didn't care. Now he discovered that James knew and that he had even been asked if he wanted to see him, and James had accepted. All of a sudden, Ron felt tired, he felt like he would have never gone to win that battle. Which battle? He didn't know.

"Mr Weasley, are you all right?" asked the Healer.

Ron brought his hands to his cheeks and brushed his tears away. "Yes," he said, opening his eyes and nodding sharply, "yes, I am."

The Healer looked worried, surely he was thinking that if he had those odd reactions without even seeing his nephew when he entered into James' room he could have gone mental at once. Nonetheless, he stood up and walked towards his door. "We can go, Mr Weasley," he said, opening the door.

Ron looked at him as if he didn't understand where he wanted him to go. He opened his mouth, but closed it immediately. He mouthed a silent 'go?'.

The Healer smiled gently. "Go and see your nephew," he said, stepping into the aisle.

Ron stood up and the pieces of the glass creaked under his feet, he hastily pulled out his wand and repaired it. "I'm sorry," he said, putting the glass on the desk.

The Healer smiled again. "Don't worry, Mr Weasley, the Hospital provides us with hundreds of those glasses," he replied calmly, as he closed the door at their backs and they started to walk.

"Good morning, Mr Thompson," said a young Healer, smiling.

Mr Thompson nodded distractedly as he walked past her. "You'll be alone in the room with your nephew, but a Healer will pass by every now and then."

Ron shook his head softly. "You think I want to kill my nephew?" he asked coldly.

The Healer looked at him a bit embarrassed and a bit worried. "No, of course not," he said a bit too quickly, "I just wanted to prepare you to the fact that you'll be disturbed every now and then." The Healer looked away. "Mr Weasley, the patient's mind is in a very weak state," he murmured, "and I have to put his health before anything. I also have to tell you that you'll be observed and if we think that things are getting out of your hands will intervene and your visit will end there."

Ron stood in the middle of the aisle. "We, who?" he asked softly.

The Healer looked away and kept on walking. "Your sister and I," he said quietly.

Ron felt his head buzzing. He stopped, leaned against the wall and brought a hand to his head. He didn't want Ginny to be there, he didn't want her to watch them without him being able to see her. He felt like a prisoner in Azkaban, observed and watched closely as if he was dangerous.

"Mr Weasley, if you don't feel like doing this anymore, you don't have to," said the Healer gently, putting a hand over his shoulder.

Ron shook his head firmly. "No," he said slowly, "no, I want to." The Healer couldn't even imagine how hard it had been for Ron to stand up from the bed where he had been looking at Hermione for the whole night, dress up and walk out of his house. No he couldn't even imagine what an effort he had made, and after all that struggle to be there he couldn't simply go back home. He had to see James.

The Healer nodded and they kept on walking down the aisle. They turned a corner and another row of doors appeared before their eyes, Healers that walked and patients that had to lean on their relatives to stay up and take a little walk out of their beds.

Ginny was there too. She sat on a chair next to a door, a closed book in her lap, a worried expression over her face. She was looking right and left as if searching for someone, and when she spotted Ron he knew that that someone had arrived.

The Healer stopped in front of the red-haired woman who stood up at once and greeted him. Ron looked at her trying to show no emotions at all.

"Mr Weasley," said the Healer, snapping Ron out of his thoughts, "you don't have to worry if your nephew doesn't…"

But Ron wasn't listening to him, his eyes were on his sister, as if he was silently begging her to send the Healer away and talk to him alone. They were siblings, when they had been young they were always together and developed that sort of sixth sense that only close siblings have. They could understand what the other wanted just by looking into each other's eyes. But had passed ages since they last did it, they had grown apart; and in the last weeks their relationship had simply broken, shattered into pieces.

"Mr Thompson, can I talk alone with my brother?" asked Ginny, looking at the Healer with a nervous glance.

The Healer looked at her as if to ask her if she was really sure about what she asked, but Ginny nodded steadily and the Healer nodded back. "Sure, Mrs Potter, I'll be just round the corner," he said calmly. He looked at Ron and smiled. "Good luck, Mr Weasley." They shook hands but Ron didn't answer him, and with a last glance at Ginny the Healer walked away.

Silence fell between the siblings. Their eyes were fixed on the figure of the Healer that disappeared in a door and then on the wall, as if they were trying to gather the courage to talk to each other, or better to decide what to say.

"What are you doing here, Ron?" asked Ginny eventually. Her tone was tired as if she couldn't bear anymore to sit there and guard her son.

Ron didn't look at her. "I want to talk to James," he said simply.

Ginny sighed. "Why?"

Ron looked at her and stopped. She looked tired, her eyes were red and her whole appearance was exhausted. For a moment something blackened in Ron's mind. His sister had her son, he was still alive, yet she felt just like him and Hermione. Why? Why couldn't she celebrate instead of crying?

"I need to talk to him," he said slowly.

Ginny shook her head frantically, then she stopped with a hand on her mouth and closed her eyes, as if she was silently asking her tears not to fall down. Then she looked at Ron and spoke with a soft, hoarse voice, that let him know that she would have cried, soon or later. "I loved Rose," she said, "don't think even for a moment that I didn't love her."

Ron inhaled sharply. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked stiffly.

"Because you think you lost everything while Harry and I were blessed with James' life," she murmured, "but you're wrong."

Ron looked away, his face disgusted to hear such discourses. "Your son is alive and you're telling me that I'm wrong if I believe that you're rejoicing for that?"

Ginny raised her eyes on her brother, they were shining with tears. "He doesn't look at us, he doesn't talk to us, he doesn't react to anything at all when we are with him, he doesn't eat," she said, her voice broken, "he hates Harry because he's sure that it was him the one that brought him to St. Mungo's and saved his life."

Ron stiffened. "Tell him that it wasn't his father who saved him."

Ginny shook her head. "His body might be alive, Ron, but his heart died with Rose," she whispered, "please, don't add any other sufferance to us."

Ron stared at the door next to them, stubbornly avoiding his sister's eyes. There was something around her. Some strange power, some terrible feeling, some kind of grief that Ron hadn't even imagined it could exist and that wrapped his sister's chest and didn't let her breathe.

When Ron's sight blurred and tears traced his cheeks, it was unexpected. It mortified Ron, because he had told himself that he had to be strong, cold-blooded, unbreakable; and instead he was breaking down.

Suddenly Ginny's arms around his neck were a comfort so great that for a moment Ron's body stiffened against that of his sister. Her long, white hands caressed his head and pulled at his hair, letting him know that she was there, right there with him, that she shared his pain, that she was as destroyed as he was, that they were the same blood and the same flesh, that they were going through that together.

Her hands caressed his back, and finally she felt his own hands lingering softly on her shoulders, as if he was too weak to hug her as strongly as she was doing. He shook with sobs in her arms and she hugged him more powerfully than before. His face was hidden in her neck cavity, soaking her smooth skin with his salty, hot tears.

Ginny closed her eyes and misbehaving tears streamed her cheeks as well. She brushed her head against Ron's and inhaled deeply. Her fingers entangling in his locks.

Ron sniffled. He nodded softly to let her know that now that she held him the worst had passed, and Ginny released him a little. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him on his forehead. Her hands went to his cheeks, to brush away his last tears.

Ron nodded again. He backed a little and opened his eyes. Ginny was looking at him as if she knew anything and nothing at the same time. As if she was offering him comfort, but at the same time she was the one that was asking for it.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," she whispered in his ear.

"No," he murmured, "I have to."

Ginny's eyes wetted with more tears, she looked away and closed them. Her brow furrowed as if she was trying to keep her tears from falling. Again. She nodded, without being able to say anything else.

Ron nodded back, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her eyes, swallowing her tears before she could even shed them. He let her go and walked past her. Ginny didn't turn when he closed the door at his back, she was probably sitting back on the chair, or maybe she was heading towards a one-sided window, like the one from where they had followed their daughter's death. He didn't care.

* * *

"Mrs Potter," said the Healer as soon as Ron had disappeared into the door.

Ginny looked up from the chair where she had collapsed.

The Healer opened an arm and gestured for her to follow him. "The window is in that direction," he said quietly.

Ginny took a deep breath and shook her head. She brought her hands to her face and covered it.

"Mrs Potter?" the Healer called her again. "We better go--"

"I don't want to go," she said, through her hands, "I don't want to spy on my brother."

The Healer looked worried. "But he surely wasn't --"

"Mr Thompson." She looked up at him. "This is my last word." Her eyes were red, but her glance was resolute. The Healer nodded and walked away, a resigned expression over his face.

Ginny sunk into her chair, her face blank, her heart beating furiously in her chest. She was stupid, she was certain of that. Anything that would have happened in that room was her fault.

* * *

Ron closed the door at his back and cast a quick glance around himself. The room was huge for being a single one, it was surely the best one the Hospital could offer to Harry Potter's son. He wondered if they would have done the same with the daughter of Ron Weasley. He shook his head firmly, as if to sent that thought away.

Ron looked at the bed near the window and finally had a look at his nephew. For a moment he stared. James hadn't been his first nephew, that was Victoire, but, Ron was sorry to say that, James had been the first for whom Ron had felt that something. Not that he didn't like Victoire or love her or any other of his nephews and nieces, but with James it was different. He and Hermione had tried to have a child of their own for years and then, unexpectedly, Ginny had gotten pregnant, and when James had been born Ron had felt like he was his and Hermione's as much as of his best friend and his sister's. He loved him. He would have lied to himself if he told anybody that he didn't love James as much as Hugo or as much as he had loved Rose.

Ron stepped towards the bed. James was asleep, or so he seemed. His breath was so shallow he could have been dead. Ron fixed his eyes over his chest and noticed that it raised and lowered almost imperceptibly. He noticed his wrists, they were covered with bandages where he had probably cut his veins, and above the bandages there were two material bands that tied his arms to the sides of the bed. So they had to tie him to the bed to keep him from hurting himself. Ron's heart was aching.

All of a sudden Ron didn't feel like talking to him anymore. He didn't feel like affronting him. He didn't feel like waking James from his dream, whether it was, and bring him back to the awful reality. James' face was ghostly white, his hair ruffled on his head, his eyes ringed deeply, his freckles stood on his skin like spots of ink, he looked like he needed to rest.

Ron closed his eyes for a moment and turned. He swallowed hard and started to walk back towards the door. His head buzzing as he thought that he was really renouncing to probably his only occasion to talk to him, because once James would have been out of the Hospital, he was sure that the eldest Potter wouldn't have wanted to talk to him.

"I thought you wanted to talk."

Ron stopped in his track, his eyes wide. For a moment he thought that he had just imagined that voice. It was low and throaty as if the person to whom it belonged had just woken up from a dream. And maybe it was exactly like that. Ron didn't turn for some seconds, until he heard James' breath changing and becoming heavier.

Ron turned. His eyes met with James'. He could see his own sadness in those of his nephew and for a moment his simple glance devastated him so much that Ron had to look away first.

"I thought you wanted to talk," James said again, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Ron nodded stiffly. He took some steps towards him, his eyes low, and when he spotted a chair near the bed he sat down, so that he was only a few inches from his nephew's face. He opened his mouth, but closed it without saying anything, too afraid that his voice could betray any kind of unwanted emotion.

James looked at him but didn't speak further. His face was emotionless, his eyes distant.

Ron looked away and darkened. "Your Healer had told me not to talk about anything that might upset you," he bit out bluntly, his voice sharp.

James inhaled deeply. "He told you not to talk about Rose, didn't he?" he asked quietly.

Ron's jaw set. When James had said his daughter's name he had felt a iron fist closing around his heart. He didn't like him saying her name. "He did," he replied coldly.

"He didn't know that it was exactly for that that you came," said James calmly. He looked at Ron and added, "Right?"

Ron twitched his hands in irritation, his eyes becoming even more distant. "You want to talk about her, James?" he asked annoyed.

"You came here for that, Uncle," replied James weakly.

"Fine." Ron crossed his arms. "I believe that ask you why you decided to kill yourselves, or since when you've started thinking about that, or how that happened, would upset you, wouldn't it?"

James looked away, his face blank. "No, it wouldn't," he replied.

Ron snorted. "No, of course, it wouldn't." He shook his head and when he spoke, James knew that he had prepared what to say. "For you it was all just a game, wasn't it? Just a stupid game where it would have been funny to see who died first, or how much we would have cried over your dead bodies, wasn't it?"

James tried to raise from the bed to have a better look at his Uncle, but all he could do was to arch his back a little, until his wrists started to hurt him. "You see what's your problem? You all think that we didn't know what we were doing," he replied, "that we were still a couple of children and that we wanted to get a revenge over you for treating us the way you did. You're so wrong."

"Oh, are we?" asked Ron coldly, "really? Because you were no kids indeed, right? You're first cousins and…" Ron looked away, his breath becoming more laboured. "You _were_ first cousins and she got pregnant." He shook his head. "And she was underage."

"I was underage as well," replied James, "when we started."

"I don't want to know it," said Ron icily, "I don't want to hear anything about you two being together."

James lowered his head on the pillow. "Why did you come here, then?" he asked.

"Because my daughter is dead and you are not," replied Ron, looking away.

"And you're blaming me for that, aren't you?"

"Shouldn't I?" asked Ron, his voice sharp.

"Don't you think that I wouldn't give anything I have to be dead, to be with her," replied James, looking out of the window. His tone was so calm and sad that for a moment Ron had to fight the urge to hurry at his side and hug him.

"Then you're a fool," Ron said miserably.

James turned to look at him. "Imagine Aunt Hermione dead," he whispered, "imagine your life without her--"

"James, stop it," said Ron, setting his jaw.

"--imagine waking up without her by your side, imagine--"

"Stop it, James!" cried Ron.

"--imagine her gone with your child, with Hugo; imagine--"

"And you imagine your life without your daughter," Ron screamed, interrupting him. "Imagine to see her lifeless body in a cold, hospital bed while they cover it with a sheet and say that she's gone forever."

James looked away. "That's what you all don't get, do you? It had already happened."

Ron shook his head as if he didn't understand. "What are you talking about?" His voice sharp.

"She was pregnant," he whispered, "and everybody seems to forget that."

Ron looked away. "You were the ones that decided to kill the baby," he said coldly.

"We wanted to be together," murmured James, "in a place where nobody would keep us apart."

Ron shook his head forcefully and shut his eyes, trying to keep more tears to fall down. "We wouldn't have kept you forever apart," he whispered. If he could have gone back now he would have never done anything of the things he had done, he wouldn't have kept them apart even for a split second.

"You lost a daughter," James said, his voice low and miserable, "I lost a cousin, a friend, a lover." He shook his head. "I lost everything."

Ron stood up and turned on his heels. "You still have your life, you silly boy," he cried bitterly, "you still have your family."

"I don't have anything left!" For the first time James' voice raised higher than that of his Uncle. "She brought everything away with her!"

Ron turned and took some steps towards him. "Your parents out there are desperate because you're not even looking at them," he screamed, "and you claim that you don't have anything! What did they do to deserve your hate?"

James looked away, his eyelashes shining with restrained tears. "They didn't let me go," he whispered.

Ron's jaw set. "You silly boy," he hissed, shaking his head, "it was me."

James turned his head towards him. His eyes wide with incomprehension. "What?" he mouthed.

"It was me the one that Apparated you to the Hospital," said Ron, his eyes two pieces of ice.

James shook his head frantically. "No," he groaned, "no, you're lying. It was dad who--"

"Your dad brought Rose," Ron cut him off coldly. "I brought you."

James' head, who was raised from the pillow of several inches, fell back on the bed. His back tensed as he moved his arms in the unsuccessful attempt of freeing himself. "Why did you come here?" he screamed, his breath increasing with the effort while he started to trash on the bed. "What do you want from me?" Ron had saved his life, that meant only a thing: his Uncle didn't hate him, and that was terrible because that meant that he was wrong about him.

Ron stepped towards him and grabbed his shoulders. "The truth," he cried, pushing his body against James' to stop him from pulling at his wrists, which were starting to bleed for the effort.

James muscles pushed forward, against his Uncle's body, but his resistance didn't last long. Ron waited until his struggles melted in soft sobs.

"Why did you come here?" whined James, tears wetting his cheeks. "Why do you want to torture me more than I've already suffered?"

Ron looked down at him and for a moment time stopped. James' tears fossilized on his face as he looked into his Uncle's eyes. For the first time in his entire life, James was looking into the eyes of a grown up man who was crying. Really crying, without saving any piece of his dignity in front of his nephew.

Ron sniffed. He let out a sob and looked away, brushing his eyes furiously as if he had just understood how much he hated to be seeing crying from his nephew. "I-I wanted to know…" His voice died in his throat as he sobbed harder. "I wanted to know if it was Rose the one that had stolen the poison." He withdraw from James and sat on the bed next to him, his hands brushing roughly his own face. "I want to know if she hates me… if she hated me so much…"

James looked at him. Breathless. His Uncle had tried to tell him how it felt to be on his side for all the time, the side of those that looked at them and shook their heads disapprovingly, and now, with that simple statement, everything was clear to James. He had assumed that they didn't want to understand them, but maybe it had been him and Rose that hadn't wanted to listen to them. "No," he finally whispered, his voice unrecognizable even to himself.

Ron raised his eyes on him, without being able to see him through his tears. He stood still, waiting.

"No," James continued, "it was me." He understood that if he said that Rose wanted to live his story would have become suddenly very unbelievable, so he preferred to rather not talk about her. "I stole the poison from Professor Slughorn's office, I brought it to your house on Christmas night, I asked her to die with me." James sniffled. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Suddenly he was taking his cousin's place in the story. Suddenly he was taking her fault. Suddenly he was becoming the one that wanted to die.

Ron stood up from the bed, shaking a little, his eyes widened while he looked at James. He nodded, then turned, and before James could add anything else, he walked out of the door and almost bumped into the Healer that was entering with a tray of antidotes.

While the Healer excused herself James saw his Uncle leaving and heard his mother's voice. Sadly he thought that he hadn't given the right answer to his Uncle's question, but then there was a right answer at all for that?

The choice was yours and no one else's

You can cry for a body in despair

Hang your head because she is no longer there

To shine, or dazzle, or betray

How she lived, how she shined

But how soon the lights were gone

* * *

Author's Notes2: Last lines come from one of Evita's songs, I think they could fit, if you think at all the you-s as second person plural.. Next chapter will be the last one, if I manage to write it. It's going to be very difficult indeed, believe me.. Love you all..


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Notes: Yeah, well, sorry for the delay with this last chapter, but you know when you have no time, no internet and no ideas? Well, that's exactly what happened to me. No time to write, no internet for a long time and no ideas for this last chapters.. Or better, I had too many ideas and didn't want to pick up any of them because somehow I didn't want to finish this story -- don't ask me why! I don't know! I hope that you'll like this chapter, I wrote it in about... let me think... thirty minutes? Yeah, something like that, between yesterday night and today afternoon. It's the LAST CHAPTER, so pleassee don't ask me for updates, since there won't be any! I'm looking forward to read your reviews, though, so go ahead!

I might be posting another story soon, but if I do it'll be in French. Why? Well, because I have a module of French Language due in September and I could do with some more practice. So, well, basically this is just an alert for French speakers out there.

I'm currently re-writing all the stories I've written so far (this one too will be written once again and beta-read), so stay tuned because if you have any of them in your favourite or in your alerts, I'll send you pms the day the nw versions will be uploaded. 'kay?

Anyway, it has been quite a while since I've been on this site and I've noticed a lovely new feature: "Polls", so well, I've decided to put a poll on my profile page, go and check it out, guys! (And vote, naturally!) Also.. I've a Facebook account, add me to your friends if you want, (just send me a message with the invitation and tell me who you are on this site..) I love friends! The link is in my profile page, like the links to all my accounts.

* * *

**Two Years Later**

Ron leaned against his bedroom door, a midnight blue tie loosely tied around his neck. He smiled softly as he followed his wife's hands going up and down her face, the white moisturizing cream all over her fingers, palms and backs.

Hermione glanced at Ron's reflection in the mirror. "What?" she asked as a soft smile appeared on her lips.

Ron shook his head and walked towards her. "Nothing," he said, bending next to her and kissing her cheek. He looked at her reflection next to his face and whispered, "Should there be a reason for me to watch my beautiful wife?"

Hermione smiled and lowered her eyes. "I'm not beautiful with moisturizing cream all over my face and a pony tail," she said.

"You know that I think that you're always beautiful," he replied, standing up and walking away. He loosened his tie even more until his neck could pass through it and, once he was finally free, he threw it on the bed. "The Hogwarts Express arrives tomorrow in the afternoon," he said softly, "you can't make it, right?"

"Sure I can," she answered softly, "I would never miss my son's arrival."

Ron stopped and looked at her. "Didn't you have a meeting in the afternoon?" he asked Hermione.

Hermione took a moment to answer. "Yes, I did," she said gingerly, freeing her hair from the pony tail and starting to brush it, "but it's okay, I can take a day off from work."

Ron unbuttoned his shirt and put it on the chair. "Hermione, you--"

Hermione's brush stood in midair as she raised her eyes to look at him. "Ron, don't…"

Ron stopped, he bit his bottom lip and looked away. He disrobed of his trousers, put them over the shirt and walked into the bathroom. Hermione heard the basin filling with water and then noises that let her know that her husband was brushing his teeth. Minutes later, when Ron emerged from the bathroom, he was drying his face in a green towel. "Listen, it's great that you want to come to pick up Hugo, really," he said to her, sitting on their bed in his underpants.

Hermione looked at him through the mirror. "But?"

Ron looked away. "But I took the day off to go there, you don't need to do that yourself, " he let her know.

Hermione smiled. "But I want to go there," she said, "yes, I have a meeting, but I can call it off."

"Hermione, you can't take another day off your job," Ron sighed.

"Why?" she asked lightly. "You always used to complain about me working all day and now that I'm finally relaxing, you're complaining about that too."

"You called two meeting off last week, and the week before you went to your office only in the morning and the week before that you--"

"Yes," she said, raising her voice and lowering her brush, "I'm tired and Healer Strout said that it's okay to relax a little about work and stuff."

"She also said not to stop working like you did last year," he replied.

"I'm not going to stop working," she cried, standing up and turning towards him. "I'm just tired."

"You're always tired," Ron informed her.

"I'm _not_ always tired, Ron," she stated, "I'm just tired right now."

"Hermione, we've already talked about this, remember?" he asked sweetly. "You need to work, you need to keep your head busy, you need to go out. Remember when you locked yourself in the house? That wasn't good."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not going to lock myself in again, Ron," she said, unbuttoning her dressing gown and putting it on the chair next to her husband trousers. "I just need to slow down a little."

"What you don't need is to stop, though," he said.

Hermione looked away, for a moment her bottom lip trembled and her vision went out of focus. "I know," she whispered, hating the fact that her voice was shaking so much, "but I'd love to." She brought a hand to her face and hastily brushed the tears away, knowing that if she started to cry it could have taken a while before she stopped.

She heard Ron standing up but before she could even clear her sight to glance at him, he pressed his body against hers; his arms slid around her back as he hugged her, his hand brushed away her hair while he lowered his head and pressed his cheek against her head. "I know," he whispered back, "but you can't do that."

Hermione gripped her hands to his arms. "Ron…"

"I'm here, Hermione," he whispered.

Hermione brushed her eyes against his bare skin and took a while to answer as if she was waiting to calm down. "I miss her," she murmured, her voice steadier.

"I know, I miss her too," he murmured back, "but there's nothing we can do about that."

Hermione nodded against his chest, she sniffled softly and her hair tickled his skin.

"Do you want me to call Healer Strout for a session?"

Hermione backed a little and looked into Ron's blue eyes. "Do you think I should?" she asked unsurely.

"Only if you want to," he assured her.

She nodded. "Then no," she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, brushing away the remaining of the tears, "yes, I can manage this. I don't need to see a shrink, I'm fine. I'm not crazy."

"Never stated the contrary," he let her know.

Hermione smiled. "I know," she whispered. It hadn't been Ron the one that had insisted about her seeing a psychiatrist, on the contrary, he had been the one that had refused to take her there for the first two months, until she had started to feel better. She stood on tiptoes and kissed him. "Are you going to come to bed?"

Ron smiled. "I'm wearing my pyjamas and then I'm off to bed."

Hermione climbed on the bed and drew the sheets to her chest. "Are you going to collect Hugo by car, tomorrow?"

Ron smiled and lied next to her, her cold feet brushed his warm ones. "Yes, that was an option."

"You can pass by the Ministry once you've been to King's Cross," she suggested, "I missed him in these moths." She turned on the other side of the bed and leaned her back against Ron's chest. He sneaked an arm around her belly and held her tightly against him, leaning forward he breathed in the scent of her hair. Her locks have impregnated with all the smells of the evening that they have just spent, Hermione's parents house scented with flowers, tea and chocolate biscuits and the mint scented eau de toilette that she had spread over her skin after the shower.

"I've missed him too," he replied sleepily. There was a pause of silence in which their breaths came out slowly and softly, like caresses in the dark; then Ron said, "I almost forgot, Ginny and Harry had invited us all to their house for dinner in the weekend."

Their comfortable spooning broke as Hermione stiffened under his arm. "Really?" she said, her voice suddenly tight with concern.

"Yes, and this time we should really go," he whispered, his arm tightening around her belly as if he wanted to prevent her escape. "Remember that it was also part of your therapy? Healer Strout told you to talk to them again."

"I'm talking to them," she protested feebly.

"Christmas cards and job talks is not talking," he said sweetly.

"Healer Strout invited James at a session once, he didn't come," she murmured.

Another pause of silence followed Hermione's statement, and for a moment she had the foolish idea that her husband was going to let the subject fall and wish her good night. "It's James," he said instead.

Hermione's head turned a little towards him. "What?" she tried to say, but instead she found herself just mouthing that word. Her eyes wide in the dark room as she was trying to make out her husband's expression.

"It's James the one that wants to see you," he said softly against her cheek.

Hermione turned again and sank her head in the pillow. "I-I can't…"

"Of course you can, Hermione," Ron whispered to her as if she was a child, "I'll be there with you, we'll talk together. You are not alone."

For a moment Hermione considered crying again, then her hand covered Ron's and she enlaced her fingers with his. "I know," she whispered, her voice shaking, "I love you, Ron."

"Love you, too, Hermione," he replied softly. He hid his head in her neck cavity and kissed her. "Love you, too."

- The End -

* * *

Author's Notes2: Just a resumé of what I wrote above for those of you who doesn't read the AN on the header:

1. This is the last chapter,

2. Reviews are love,

3. Vote on my profile,

4. Add me to your friends on Facebook (link on my profile page!),

5. My future stories / re-writing of old stories,

6. Love my readers so far.


End file.
